You're My Ride
by Terp4Life
Summary: Linden and Holder spend a lot of time together, and yet, there's a lot that isn't said... but the more time they spend together, the less that matters. They can read each other... most of the time. This story includes clips from the show as well as extra scenes that I would have *liked* to have seen, and lots of what may have been going on in their heads.
1. The New Guy

**Title: **You're My Ride

**Rating: **T for some language

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Summary:** Linden and Holder spend a lot of time together, and yet, there's a lot that isn't said.

**Spoilers: **This chapter only spoils season 1, ep 1

**Chapter 1**

DAY 1

Sarah Linden was in her office when someone bumped into the doorframe on their way in.

She looks up. "Uh, who are… can I help you?"

"Yeah, this is my office," said a scruffy, nervous looking man.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Holder, from County. Are you Linden?"

"Yeah, I'm Linden."

"I thought you'd be outta here by now. But I mean if you need more time I can wait outside…"

"No that's OK. No no no, come on in. I'm almost done."

Holder accidentally knocks Linden's box off the desk as he sets down his own. She jumps up to get it.

"I got it!"

"My bad. So, I hear you're moving to LA."

"San Francisco area."

"Oakland?"

"Sonoma."

"That's nice." Holder is trying to make conversation.

"Yep." Linden isn't make it easy for him.

"Nice weather, ocean, beaches… I hate that shit!"

"You must love this place then."

In the middle of this slightly awkward conversation, Lt. Oakes arrives with an assignment for Linden. "We got a call down at Discovery Park. Check it out."

"On my last day? My flight's tonight." Linden is not amused.

"You're still on the city's dime. You can hand it off end of shift, six o'clock. Go on, do your job. And take him. Show him how to work a scene."

"I know how to work a scene," Holder assures her after Oakes has left the room.

"Grab a box. We'll take my car. Over there."

They leave the office together, for the **first** time. But not the last. This is only the beginning.

_Holder_

First day! It may sound dumb, but I'm excited. I'm in the big time. Homicide. OK, it wasn't my original destination, but I'm here. And yeah, it's because I kinda – no, make that majorly – fucked up… but whatever, it's gonna be great. A new beginning and all that shit. It sounds corny, even in my head, but I can't help but feel like whether I wanted it or not, it's the new start I needed.

Another chance. A chance to show everyone that I _can_ do it. That I'm not just a _piece of shit tweak head_, like they all seem to think I am. Do I deserve that label? Shit, maybe I do. I dunno, I mean yeah, I totally fucked up. Cops aren't supposed to end up getting addicted themselves. I deserved to be booted from Narcotics. No one to blame but myself. I did it, and now I'm going to take the consequences and come back from it. I just… damn, it's hard. I dunno. But I'm here now, and it's all good. Six months clean. One day at a time.

This Linden chick? I mean everyone's a critic and all, but damn… I already feel like I can't do nothing right with her, and I just met her. But she's on the way out, so I guess it don't matter. If she were sticking around, I'm sure I could bring her around. I mean come on, what's not to like?

_Linden_

Last day. I still can't believe it, that I'm leaving all this. But it's gonna be a good change. Healthy. I've been waiting a long time for a chance like this. _Stability_. I can admit that I have a tendency to get a _little_ too involved in the cases that I work. OK, that may be an understatement… And especially the ones involving kids. When there's kids involved in homicide cases, it's just so unfair. Adults do such stupid things, and it hurts the kids so badly. Having something like that in your past, that can scar you for your entire life! And _I_ know about scars…

Living in Sonoma with Rick and Jack is going to be such a relief. It really is all for the best. Will I miss it? The job? People keep asking me that lately. Well, I guess so. I mean, I've lived and breathed this job for years now. And I'm really good at it, or so they tell me… And of course I've never lived anywhere else. But there's so many ghosts here for me, so many unpleasant memories… no, it'll definitely be good to get away.

So this Holder guy that's replacing me? _Really?_ WOW! I mean, I'm sure – wait, I'm _not_ actually sure, come to think of it – but he_ may_ be a decent enough guy, he just seems totally incompetent. Like, he's already worked as a cop, so why does he seem so clueless? It doesn't surprise me that he came from Narcotics, he certainly looks the part. More like a _junkie_. He must've fit in really well undercover… except, then why is he_ here_?

It's not my problem, though. I'm glad I'm not going to be here to have to deal with him. I feel sorry for whoever ends up as _his_ partner. The guy is a _MESS_!

Nope, I'm headed in the right direction… away from all of this. Away from my messy past. Seattle. Really. I _am_. In a few short hours, Sonoma, and my new life, here I come.


	2. Discovery Park

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers:** Season 1, day 1

DAY 1

Linden and Holder are at Discovery Park. A few items had been recovered, but there's no body to examine.

"You find anything else, mark it, don't move it, and call in Sex Crimes, this is theirs for now."

"Yo! We got here first!" As far as Holder's concerned, they're just getting started.

"Yeah, and we don't got a body."

"Not _**yet**_**."**

"You wanna follow it up, go for it."

"You my _ride_, Linden."

"So I'll drop you off at the station. I need to finish packing up."

"I thought you were done. Flight's not til 9:00, right? I won't let you miss it. Promise."

_Holder_

My first day in Homicide and I got put on a case almost as soon as I walked in the door! Not even time to unpack one box, barely enough time to make small talk with Linden, who's apparently the human pitbull. It's perfect – I sure didn't become a cop to sit behind a desk. Gotta be where the action is. I'm hoping there's something more to this case... not much to go on so far, but you never know. The busier I am, the less I think about other things. Temptations, old habits, things that got me here in the first place.

So Oakes told me to ride with Linden, so she could "show me how to work a scene," and she was _not_ happy to be sent out to the park. She was even less happy about investigating a case that so far don't have a body to go with it. Some kids had found an ATM card and a sweater there this morning. I hope this turns out to be something, though. I just need the chance to prove myself – to everyone – like, _now_. I can feel their eyes on me, wondering what I got transferred up here for… I hate that feeling.

One thing I know already, Linden don't seem to like me too much. Course, she don't know nothing about me. Then again, she don't seem too happy with nobody. I mean, I get it, who wants to start doing real work on a case on their last day at a job? So she's pissed. And yeah, I guess she was in a hurry to get back to the station since she knew she was gonna hand off the case in a few hours anyway. Who cares, right? I mean, I've never been like that, but some people sure are. Guess that's why I was suited for undercover – no problem putting myself all the way into a case. Eating, sleeping and breathing it. She don't seem too broken up about it being her last day, or the fact that she's not gonna know how this one ends. Me, I'd get curious. But then, it sounds like she's got a good thing where she's headed.

Come to think of it, for a department of people who all think they're seeing her for the last time, no one seems to have noticed. I mean, it's a precinct full of tough guys, but not one person has even wished her good luck, bon voyage, sayonara or whatever. I heard they had a party for her already. I guess that counts for something… but still. You'd think if you were seeing someone who you'd worked with for years for the last time, you'd say goodbye. Maybe it's just me? Damn, I dunno… Maybe they know something about her that I don't. Or maybe that says a lot about her – the fact that no one seems like they're gonna miss her. That's pretty sad.

So she wanted me to ride all the way back to the station with her only to get another car and come all the way back out here. Seriously? She can't just hang out for a second? I can investigate it without her, she can just stand and watch me work, observe my _skills, _but she don't gotta waste my time. I mean, she's a detective…she should be looking for clues or something! Whatever, she'll be outta here soon. Not gonna let her get under my skin.

_Linden_

I seriously can't believe Oakes put me on the rotation on my last day. _My last day_! I mean, I guess someone has to babysit Holder. He's right about that, though, the guy is beyond clueless! It's interesting to see what his version of "working a scene" looks like. He doesn't seem like a guy that has much in the way of finesse or people skills or whatever you wanna call it. This job requires a lot of it, since so many people will only give you information if you look like a person they can relate to. That they can trust. It's hard to feel much confidence in someone who looks like he should be a game show host or a used car salesman.

I just want to get out of here and on the plane. I didn't want to start investigating this case. I know myself, and I don't want to get sucked in. I promised myself, and Rick, that I wouldn't do that again. And I know that I have a tendency to get too involved in my cases. To care _too much. _I can't seem to help it, it's just what I'm good at. It's better if I just walk away before the wheels in my head start turning. So of course, Holder wants to hang out and interview people. Figures. But whatever, it's not my problem, and after today I never have to deal with any of it again.

Except… I'm already curious. It doesn't take much. It's taking everything in me to keep insisting we go back to the station… I'm sure if I stayed a few days I could show Holder how it's all done… maybe even close the case… No! I'm not going there.

What was it Holder said to me earlier? _Is that why you're running away Linden, because you don't know no more?_ Fuck him! That just proves that he doesn't know me! I'm not running from something, I'm going _towards_ something… something really positive. I am _NOT_ running away. I've done a lot of that in my life, but not this time.

It'll be nice to have some peace and quiet in Sonoma. Away from all of this death and darkness.

…

The mood of the day had changed significantly from the "maybe this is something, maybe it's not" atmosphere at Discovery Park. After interviewing Mitch Larsen, and discovering that Mitch and Stan's teenage daughter hadn't been seen since Friday night, it was as though what had seemed like two possibly insignificant items found in the park might actually be part of a much larger, much more serious puzzle.

There was still no body, but it was looking more and more like there _was_ a case, and that there _would _be a body sooner or later. Sarah Linden felt the familiar twinge, the one she always got when the wheels were turning at the beginning of a new case, her mind moving a million miles a second. Of course, a case like this was horrible. But solving these cases, this was what she was good at. The problem, of course, was that this was her last day, and a case like this was _not_ going to be wrapped up by six o'clock. Still, that wasn't her problem. She repeated this over and over to herself in order to try to kill the familiar feeling, almost a high, that starting a new case always gave her.

Holder, while of course not glad that something terrible appeared to have happened to a seventeen year old girl, was glad for the opportunity that a "real case" would provide him. Unlike for Rosie Larsen, for him, this counted as being in the right place at the right time. He sure would be glad when Linden was gone, and he could be the lead on the case though. She was definitely bossy. Good instincts, but bossy nonetheless. That icy look, the one that said "Just get out of my way and let the grown-ups do our work," that she kept giving him wasn't helping him either.

The ride from the Larsens' to Ft. Washington High School, where Rosie was a senior, and where they were headed to continue the investigation, was a tense one. Linden drove, staring straight ahead, and offering nothing in the way of small talk. Holder attempted to engage her, knowing that this was probably a futile attempt, but he had never been one to back down from a challenge. He liked to think he had a way with people.

"So, what you think so far? What's the famous Linden gut-instinct telling you?" Holder asked her, only partially sarcastically.

"I think this case is going to be a big one. I think that it's going to be too much for your first Homicide case. And I think that when I'm gone, they're going to pass this one on to someone with more experience," she replied dryly, glaring at him out of the corner of her eyes as she drove. Even though she hadn't fully looked at him, he could feel that icy stare again. He could've been wrong, but it almost looked like she'd _enjoyed_ saying that to him.

Holder sucked in a long breath before replying. He watched her with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. _How likely __**was**__ that to happen, anyway? Did she actually mean all that, or was she just being nasty? _ "Damn Linden, don't hold back or nothing, tell me how you _really_ feel."

They rode the rest of the way to the school in silence.


	3. The High School

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 1

DAY 1

At Ft. Washington High School, Linden and Holder have just finished interviewing Bennett Ahmed, one of Rosie's teachers and one of the last people to have seen her alive, for the first time. They've done the good cop/bad cop thing exceptionally well, Holder being extra confrontational and Linden being uncharacteristically warm and friendly. Still, Bennett hadn't admitted to anything.

"Call if you think of anything else," Linden tells him. He doesn't respond, just walks away. Linden's warm demeanor hadn't made up for Holder asking him if he'd "hit that," in reference to Rosie Larsen.

Linden and Holder look at each other after Bennett disappears down the hall, but they don't say a word. The look isn't quite friendly, not quite unfriendly. Maybe equal parts frustrated and skeptical. They seem to have reached some sort of understanding, which counts as progress.

Just then, Linden's phone rings. The call is from Jack's school, but all they say is that they need her to come in. As usual, her face reveals nothing, so Holder is surprised when she starts walking towards the front door, just ahead of them and down a small flight of stairs.

"Put a car on Sterling's house," she tells Holder.

"Where you going?"  
"And get a K-9 unit out of the park. I'll meet you there."

"You my _ride_, Linden."

Linden walks calmly down the stairs and out the door.

_Holder_

I can't believe this… Seriously, she's doing it again? This time just leaving me behind, _here's your assignment, see ya later? Find yourself a car, kid._ Damn! What the hell is with her? I can't help but think that Linden doesn't understand what it means to be someone's ride. OK she's lead on this case but… really? I assume there was a reason they told me to ride with her, but it's hard to tell what the reason was… I can't get much out of it if I'm not actually riding with her! Is this how she usually acts, or is this a special "_It's my last day so I'll just act however I want to_" thing?

Whatever… I can deal with her and her attitude for a few more hours. Six o'clock can't come soon enough though.

_Linden_

_Damn, what has Jack done now? Can't we just get through the last day here and be done with it?_

"_You my ride, Linden_," he keeps saying. I don't have time to babysit him! I mean, I gave him a ride – what does he want from me? He's gonna be lead on this case, unless they pull him and give it to someone else, so he needs to stop thinking and acting like a uni and start thinking and acting like a detective.

OK, maybe I've been a _little_ rough on him today, but it's a tough job. He might as well get used to it. And I have more important things to think about than whether I'm hurting his feelings.

…

Linden had picked up Jack – his school has called because he'd been caught smoking – and dropped him off at Reggie's, then gotten back to the park. Holder was already there with a variety of other officers, mainly in uniform. He was standing and talking with a few of them by their makeshift command center – a cluster of police cars on the side of the road.

He looked up as she approached. "Anything new?" she asked him, straight to the point.

"Not yet." He replied in the same dry tone. Then he added, "Everything OK?"

"Yeah, fine." Holder held her gaze, looking at her skeptically. She looked away, but still it burned into her. "Jack got caught smoking at school," she finally admitted.

"You want me to have a talk with him about smoking?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. It wasn't clear whether he was serious or not.

Linden smirked at him. _Was he kidding? Him, of all people?_ "You can't even say that with a straight face!" She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm not sure that speech would mean much coming from someone who smokes as much as you."

"Maybe, maybe not, but I'm good with kids. Just saying, the offer's there." She watched him for a minute, trying to decide whether he was actually meant it, or if he was telling some sort of deadpan joke. She couldn't decide.

"Come on, we have work to do," she reminded him. _When in doubt, change the subject back to work. _She picked up a folded map from the hood of one of the patrol cars and walked a little ways from the noise of the crowd to orient herself and try to figure out her next move. Holder was pacing now, impatient as usual.

He was ready for action, drama, _something _to _happen_… which was a good thing, because drama always seemed to follow Linden, as he would soon learn firsthand.


	4. Good Luck

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **season 1, episode 2

DAY 2

Linden and Holder are back at the high school, having now questioned the students. No one seems to know anything about what happened to Rosie on the night of the dance. None of the students even wants to admit to_ seeing_ Rosie that night. Linden and Holder believe _someone_ saw her, but these teenagers don't seem to want to talk.

"Ready? I gotta pick up Jack." Linden saw no point in hanging around any longer. She was supposedly leaving tonight – AGAIN.

"I think I'm gonna stay for a while. Do some digging."

"Into what? We got nothing from those kids."

"Yeah well, you know, it ain't your case no more, so… but you know, don't you worry Linden, I'll get a ride."

"Oh, I won't. Good luck."

"Yeah, and uh, good luck in San Diego. And tell Little Man I said… you know." Holder demonstrates his signature salute.

"Yeah, definitely." Linden turns and walks down the hall and out of the school.

Holder turns towards the group of teenage female athletes sitting in the hall, who are watching him adoringly.

_Holder_

I know there's a way to get these kids to talk… Someone knows something. It's all about how you approach it, and I'm good with kids. I can get em to talk to me, cause I'm relaxed, more chill than most adults. You wouldn't see any of these kids opening up to Linden. She's _way_ too intense. Those girls that are staring at me? I can use that to my advantage. Just gotta find the right ones and the right situation.

What Oakes did last night – telling Linden that she was staying for another 24 hours – that was fucked up. I mean I know I'm the rookie in the department but damn! Not like I just graduated from the academy. It's gonna feel good to have this case to myself…assuming that I _ever _get to be lead. Oakes _wouldn't_ keep stringing Linden along til she solves it (_would he?_)… at least I sure hope not!

Course, at the same time, I really hope I don't fuck it up. That has been my specialty in the past, so I'm gonna have to play this one right. I think my first "in" is those teenage girls. They're watching me with those googly eyes that teenage girls always get. Not gonna do nothing for real, _of course_, just use the fact that I already know they're watching me. It's kinda creepy, knowing that they're thinking about me like that, but I guess I can't blame em… I _am _irresistible, after all.

_Linden_

It's funny, though I don't like him, I almost saw myself in Holder for a second there. If I weren't on my way out of town and off this case, I'd be the one sticking around to _do some digging_. I'm glad to see that he at least has the motivation to follow through… I'm almost jealous of him, in some weird way. It's not like me – it's always been pretty much _impossible _for me - to distance myself from a case. On just about every case I've worked, I've been way _too_ involved. No matter how I tell myself I won't do it again, somehow it's just the way I work. I can't seem to do it half way, just all or nothing… even when the _all_ manages to destroy my life.

But I _can't_ get personally involved in this one. I know there's more to it, and I'm sure that given more time, and more "digging," I could find out what's behind it all. But Jack is my priority. And getting out of Seattle. Rick. The wedding. I'm sure Holder will be fine…. OK, I'm not sure, but he may be a _little _brighter than I'd originally thought. And it's his problem, not mine. I'm leaving it behind… It's for the best.

And yet, I'm pretty sure I could solve this case. It's always just a matter of finding the connections. The kids here don't wanna talk, but someone knows something. Teenagers never want to be the one to talk in front of their friends, in front of the other kids who'll judge them, but if they weren't all in those big groups we had them in, I'll bet one of them would be willing to say something. Yeah, if I wasn't leaving tonight, I know I could solve it.

…

Linden had been in the station when she'd heard the call come in about The Cage over the radio. She'd just finished telling Oakes that she couldn't stay any longer, telling Jack that they were _not_ sticking around for him to be able to go to Nash's party. Suddenly, just as she'd been about to leave the building, what had been a quiet evening in the halls of the precinct had morphed into a night abuzz with the sounds of officers getting ready, radios crackling, techs springing out of doorways and moving as a group toward their squad cars. She'd been _so close_ to getting out. AGAIN.

The few details available about the scene that had been found at the high school were pretty horrific. From the bits and pieces that Linden had overheard, she knew that a secret dungeon of some sort had been found, and that there was a lot of blood involved. She had quickly made a few calls to change the plan for the night – yes, she had had to tell Jack that they weren't leaving, _again_, and make arrangements for him to stay at Reggie's, _again_. She could hear the lack of surprise, the resignation, in Reggie's voice. She was thankful that Reggie hadn't had anything smart to say about her latest "delay," because Sarah didn't have the energy to fight with her about it.

There didn't seem to be a rational explanation for why she has still here in Seattle. Something kept holding her down when she tried to free herself… the case had pulled her in, despite her best efforts to remain aloof and detached. She wondered half-heartedly if she would be able to leave before it was solved, no matter how much she told herself that she would.

As she parked her car outside the school for the second time that day, she noted the difference from what the scene had been earlier. This time there were no civilian cars lining the parking lot. Despite the lateness of the hour, the night was illuminated by what appeared to be a fleet of squad cards, marked and unmarked, with lights flashing. It would have been clear that something major was going on, even if she'd been a casual passerby.

She braced herself for more questions as she parked her car and ducked under the Crime Scene tape, walking the short distance to the front door. From there, the unis pointed the way to the basement as if they had been expecting her all along. It surprised her that no one looked the least bit surprised to see her there. Maybe they hadn't known she had planned to leave that night, or maybe they hadn't actually ever believed that she would.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Holder in deep discussion with Oakes, whose back was to her. She stopped where she was, surveying the scene. It was truly gruesome. It was unclear exactly what had happened there, but her first instinct was that it had been something horrible. Yet this wasn't the time to jump to any conclusions, as she knew well from experience. This was the time to gather as many facts as possible, and to find the connections.

Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to decide where in the chaos to begin her analysis, and finally they came to rest on Holder. He had finished his discussion with Oakes, who had crossed the room to be briefed by one of the techs. She slowly approached the spot where Holder was standing, and though he wasn't looking directly at her, her saw her approaching in his peripheral vision. Holder managed to look completely unsurprised to see her there, despite their having said their "final" goodbyes a few hours earlier. She knew which verbal jabs she was likely to be in for, knew what he was eventually going to say, without him having said a word. But it was time to get up to speed and figure this thing out. Whether or not Holder was going to give her a hard time was irrelevant.

"Missed your plane? Again?" Holder asked.

"What is this place?" _When in doubt, change the subject back to work._


	5. Assumptions of Your Enemy

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **season 1, episodes 2 and 3

DAY 2, evening

Linden and Holder are approaching the apartment where Lyndon Johnson Rosales, the janitor at Ft. Washington High School, lives with the woman who seems to be his mother.

"So how long you staying this time? You, like, the LT's pet?" Holder was starting to wonder if Linden was actually going to leave at all.

"Maybe he just wants the case cleared."

"Maybe I didn't just find the crime scene."

"Assumptions of your enemy, detective. I'm lead on this for the next few days, so stop pressing everyone we question like they're in a box. Let go of the idea that you have some BS detector."

"And how do you know I don't have one of those?"

"Cause you dress like Justin Bieber and eat pork rinds for dinner."

"Ooooooohhhhh! Me and your kid got the same diet, Linden."

_Holder_

If I didn't know better, I'd think that Linden was warming up to me a little. I'm getting fewer icy stares and more looks of just plain contempt… but every once in a while I get half a smile, out of nowhere… usually after one of my very witty one liners. My charm is finally getting through that thick outer shell of hers. It's a nice change. I mean, she's still giving orders and insisting on driving, but it's an improvement. Because apparently we gotta spend all day, every day together until she decides to actually leave – _if_ she decides to leave – so if we can at least get along, that's better.

From what I've seen, I don't think she actually wants to go to Sonoma. It's like she's getting into the zone with this case, and the deeper in she gets, the more she realizes it too. And here I thought she was gonna be able to just walk away from it all. Nope, she's more like me than I thought. We're both sucked into this one now. I don't think she's actually leaving… just a feeling. That fiancé? Seems like the job comes before everything and everyone else. Poor guy. He probably hasn't realized it yet. But what the hell do I know? I met her what? 2 days ago?

I guess I kinda get why they stuck me with her, after all – besides that I'm supposed to be _replacing her_, of course. Cause she can be kinda unpleasant, but damn, she's good at her job.

_Linden_

I _knew _Holder was going to give me a hard time about the fact that I didn't leave, _again_. He acts like I'm enjoying this. Oakes is _forcing_ me to stay! So far he's alternated between insisting that I stay, and guilting me into staying… although technically I guess last night was on me. But that call came in about The Cage just as I was about to leave… How could I walk away from that? _How?_ I couldn't, of course.

Dammit, it's exactly what I knew would happen. _Why_ did Oakes have to make me start this case? I wonder if he knew this would happen, knew that he could get one more case out of me. I need to leave it alone. Walk away. Right now. For my own sanity. Before I ruin what I have. I mean, I _know_ where I'm headed… though I tell myself that I won't go there again, who am I kidding? I know that I need to stop… but I can't.

If I'm honest with myself, I need it. And I know that this life isn't good for me, not healthy. When you care more about work than you do about yourself or any _living_ people in your life… that's the sign of a problem, right?

Nope, I'm here through the weekend, and then I'm gone. No matter what. No matter how much we've dug up in the case. No matter what Oakes says. No matter what I _think_ I need.

No matter what.

…

DAY 3

Oakes had just disrespected Holder, _again_. Or at least that's the way Holder saw it. Actually, it had been both Oakes and Linden. Oakes told Linden to tell the Larsens their daughter's cause of death. Holder had volunteered to do it – he thought that would be helpful, since that kind of news isn't exactly what a parent wants to hear. But did they want him to do it? No, of course not. Linden had shut him down immediately. "No, _I'll_ do it," she had insisted. Oakes hadn't even bothered to _respond_ to his offer.

Holder wondered what Linden's problem was, why she was being such a micro manager. He wondered if she _still_ thought he was that incompetent. Sure she hadn't known him long, but after the past few _long _days they'd had, they'd at least worked together enough for her to see that he wasn't a rookie.

After they had reviewed the video from the dance again and realized that Chris had actually been behind the devil mask – "El diablo," as the janitor had called him, just before they had been booted out of the hospital room – Linden sat and stared at the frame of the video where they'd paused it. Like she was in some kind of trance. She was probably deep in thought about something, making a connection that hadn't occurred to anyone else yet. Her wheels turned in a particular way that Holder was already starting to recognize.

But Holder was pissed, and he wasn't content to wait it out. He'd been stewing for five minutes already, while she sat there processing whatever it was that was working itself out in her head, and he was just getting angrier. "Yo, Linden," he said loudly from the chair at his desk, just across from hers, where he'd been sitting and watching her stare at the monitor. Linden glanced up, looking as if she really _had_ just woken up from a trance.

"Huh? What?" she replied, clearly only half listening to whatever he was about to say.

"What's your problem, huh?" If he sounded confrontational, it was because that's how he was feeling. Holder was determined to get right to the point. None of this beat around the bush bullshit.

"_What_ are you talking about?" _What was __**his**__ problem,_ Linden wondered.

"What's your problem with me? Why are you determined to do everything yourself? You really think I'm _that_ incompetent?" Holder wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that last part. He almost regretted asking. No one likes being told flat out that they're incompetent, but she seemed like the type that appreciated directness.

Linden was now focused on him. Despite his angry tone, she looked at him calmly, albeit with a puzzled look on her face. "What's this about, Holder?"

Holder tried to make his next sentence come out one notch less angrily than the previous one, knowing he was working himself up. "The Larsens. Cause of death. You insisting on telling them yourself… like you do with _everything else_ in this case."

Linden's face changed from puzzled to impatient. "Oh, that?" She sighed, signaling that she felt that explanation should be unnecessary. "No, I don't think you're incompetent, but I've noticed that your way of dealing with people can be…" she paused, searching for the right word, "abrasive. And that works fine in certain situations, but there are other times, like when a family has, say, _lost their child_, when it's appropriate to be a little more _sympathetic_."

_OK,_ thought Holder, _fair enough. _He didn't like what she was saying, and he wasn't sure he agreed with her – _wasn't he a sympathetic enough guy when he needed to be? _– but at least it was a reason besides just that she found him incompetent. He looked at Linden while he processed this information, and gradually the menacing look on his face softened. "Yo, I can do sympathetic. _For real,_" he insisted.

Linden looked skeptical, but at least she wasn't _laughing_. "You think?" She seemed to consider this for a minute. "Maybe you just need more practice," she finally concluded evenly.

"Teach me, oh wise one…" Holder responded with exaggerated humility, putting his hands in the air and then laying them down on the desk, as if bowing before her.

"Ha ha," said Linden, half smiling and half squeezing her lips sideways into a grimace and raising one eyebrow, as she sometimes did when she was amused. She got up from her chair and put on her coat slowly. "I'm going to see the Larsens. See you later."

"Yeah, see you later. I'll see if I can find the Echols kid, and see what he knows. I'll be in touch." Holder stood to leave as well.

"OK," Linden gave him a half smile, this time _without_ making a face. Holder saluted, as he did from time to time, and Linden disappeared through the door.

_What an unexpected team we are_, thought Holder as he closed the door behind him.


	6. Partnership

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 4

DAY 4

Linden and Holder are walking back to the car after talking to Rosie's best friend, Sterling, at the high school. As usual, the rain is coming down in buckets. They don't even seem to notice.

"If Rosie was having an affair it might explain the shoes. That key didn't fit her school locker, right?" Linden asks.  
"No. Maybe she had some secret lockbox or something where she stashed the guy's love letters and stuff."

"Where? We already checked her bedroom."

"I'll talk to the Larsens," Holder offers, knowing what Linden is going to say.  
"I'll do it. I'm meeting them at the station."

"Of course you are. I love this partnership. You do whatever you want, and I spend my time chasing you down." It's not one of those times when he can keep his frustration with her to himself.  
"Is there a problem?" They exchange a hostile look at each other from either side of the car, where they are standing, about to get in. They hold each other's gaze for a minute, then both look away without further comment. It's a truce, though an uneasy one.

Linden continues. "Rosie was sneaking out during school, taking the bus, maybe meeting someone."

"Yeah, so?"  
"The 108 doesn't hit her neighborhood from here. From Ft. Washington. Find out where she went."

_Holder_

Just when I think I'm gaining a little of Linden's respect… well, there it is. Clearly I'm not. Why do I bother to try to have ideas, anyway, if she's just gonna treat me like her lapdog? Damn, but Linden is infuriating! _Find out where she went, Holder. __**I'm**__ gonna talk to the Larsens, Holder. _It is _not _looking like I'm gonna be lead on this case at all, because she ain't gonna be leaving. **She** may not know it yet, but I'm pretty sure. We're way more alike that I'd thought, and in this case, it sucks.

There's more to this case that we're not seeing. There has to be. This Rosie girl had some serious secrets, even for a teenager. Where would a teenager have gotten those shoes? Where would she even wear them? The Larsens don't strike me as parents who'd just let their daughter go out dressed that way. Especially the mother. Not that teenagers don't sneak around or nothing, but… it's not adding up. Luckily, I'm about as stubborn as they come, and I don't plan to give up anytime soon.

_Linden_

Holder gets mad over the silliest things. I mean, really! Why is he so dead set on talking to the Larsens? Who cares who talks to them? Besides, he _really_ doesn't know when to stop pushing. And they are not the people who we need to be pushing right now. They're not suspects, they're obviously in pain, and upsetting them isn't going to help us.

He just needs to calm down and let me be the lead on the case for a few more days, then I'll be out of his way, because I'm definitely not sticking around past the weekend. There's no _way _Oakes is talking me into staying past that.

…

"The 108 doesn't hit her neighborhood from here. From Ft. Washington. Find out where she went."

Holder stood there, in the pouring rain, almost (but not quite) in disbelief, just staring at Linden for at least five _long_ seconds before blurting out, "And where you going in the mean time?" He didn't just ask, he almost demanded it. He realized that the words had come out a little more aggressively than he'd meant them to, but he didn't care. He was pretty sure, however, that Linden was gonna pull rank again any second, so he added, "Cause, you know, since we're working together at the moment it might be nice to let things flow _both _ways on the information superhighway."

Linden rolled her eyes at him. "You mean _besides_ meeting the Larsens back at the station? I told you that already." She paused, looking as though she was having an internal debate with herself. "After that, if you really want to know, I need to pick up Jack. Get him some dinner. Maybe even sleep for a few hours."

Holder nodded slowly, feeling silly for his outburst. She _had _said she was going to meet with the Larsens, though she hadn't said when. _Of course it was reasonable that she'd be picking up Jack. It was almost of the end of the day_, he reminded himself_. _He'd just assumed that she was going to work through the night… though it wouldn't have surprised him if she had. She'd done it a few times already since he'd known her. _I need to stop letting her get under my skin, _he thought to himself. He decided to try to play it off. No sense getting her mad unnecessarily.

"What? Now I know you're making shit up! Cause you definitely do _not_ sleep, at least not voluntarily." Holder had his anger issues, but he wasn't trying to provoke Linden if he could help it. Whatever anyone wanted to believe about him, he tried to be a decent enough guy.

She looked him straight in the eyes and replied, "Maybe I just know better than to sleep when you're anywhere nearby. For my own safety." Linden didn't even crack a smile. Still, he was just gonna assume it was a joke. She seemed like the type who'd be big on deadpan humor… and besides, he chose to believe that she liked him more than she was letting on.

"Oh snap! Linden's telling jokes!" Holder almost howled with laughter.

There it was – that little half smile. So far he hadn't seen that smile directed at anyone but him, which he attributed to his charm, of course. "Go on, get outta here!" he told her with a smirk, as she started getting into the car. "I've got a bus to catch."


	7. Twenty Questions

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 5

DAY 5

Linden is waiting for Holder by the car, outside Ft. Washington high school. Holder saunters over. He is returning from the coffee shop across the street, carrying one coffee in each hand and a paper bag in his mouth.

"Take your time," says Linden sarcastically. She takes the bag and one of the coffees. "Thanks," she adds.

Holder is all business. He's already been brainstorming during the coffee run. "So, Friday night, Ahmed gets the wife out of the house, brings Rosie over to get it on. Then, bam, something goes wrong, and the brother's taking a moonlit drive to Discovery Park."

"Cancels the flooring company so he can clean up before the wife gets home," Linden continues. However they get along or don't, they're on the same page with the case.

They start walking toward the school.

"I'd bet on it, if I was the gambling type." _Interesting choice of words he made there,_ Linden thinks.

"You're not? Pretty nice you made score back there."

"What is this, twenty questions? It's like a first date. Are you checking me out, Linden? "

"There's plenty of women with poor judgment out there, I'm sure you'll get lucky." _There it is again, that _

_deadpan humor_, he thinks. _She__** must**__ be joking… right?_

"Not now. I'm, uh, celibate," he responds. _HA! Bet she wasn't expecting __**that**__ answer._

"Celibate as in no sex?" _She has to admit, she didn't see that coming…_

"That's what it means, don't it? Six months now." _Anything else you'd like to know, Linden? he thought. _

They're walking up the steps of the school, and Linden turns to look at him as she climbs.

"Personal reasons," he continues without prompting.

"That's _nice_." _Sarcasm?_ he wonders. _It's hard to tell with her._

"It's not the usual convo on a first date, but there's just something about you, Linden, just makes me wanna open up. We moving on to my diet and exercise next?" He's rewarded for his humor with the tiniest hint of a smile.

They enter the school, and it's back to business.

_Holder_

Well, well, well… Linden's awfully interested in my life… I mean I get it, we're cops. It's part of the job to check people out, pick up on things, observe and whatnot... And yeah, that was a lot of money that she saw me with… I'd probably have been curious in her situation, too. But something tells me it's more than that. She's surprised. Intrigued, even. That's me, a mystery wrapped in a conundrum. I bet she's used to having people all figured out. If she can figure me out, more power to her.

Really, as weird as it may be, it wasn't a big deal to tell her that stuff. Can't think of anyone else I'd have told it all to… but for some reason, she's easy to talk to. I mean, really, who's she gonna tell? She's the kind of person you have to really work to extract information from, after all.

She's not easy to get along with, for sure, but she's not so bad. I'm pretty sure she likes my jokes, even if she won't admit it. It's almost like a challenge to get her to smile even the tiniest bit… and I _love_ me a challenge! She's _almost_ growing on me, as crazy as that sounds. She wouldn't even be the worst person to be stuck with as a partner – which is an actual possibility, since I'm betting that she's gonna end up sticking around… Wish I could put money on _that_ one, cause I'd need a much bigger envelope to hold all the money I'd win.

_Linden_

Holder really flatters himself. He didn't really think I wouldn't ask about that big envelope of money he was showing off, did he? That's what they invented banks for, so people didn't have to walk around with all that cash!

The question is, do I take him at his word about that whole Blackjack thing? I've known him all of five days. There are people that I've known for five _years _and I still don't trust them – come to think of it, I don't think I'd say I can trust _anyone_ I've known for five years – or most people who I've known longer than that, either. That's probably the right response in this situation as well… And OK, so far he's been straight with me – at least he has _as far as I know,_ that is. Really, it could all be lies… it definitely wouldn't be the first time.

But for some strange reason, something about him that makes me want to trust him - which is probably a big mistake. I've made _that _mistake too many times before. Which probably means I shouldn't tell him a thing, and not believe anything he says either. Why am I even having this conversation with myself? Really, I should know better than to trust anyone by now.

Not that it matters, because I'm leaving tomorrow night. And getting married in a few weeks. Three weeks, I think? Oh boy, is it bad if I've lost track…? **That** is what I want for my life. To be in Sonoma with Rick and Jack. Security. Stability. I _don't_ want to chase after murderers for the rest of my life, to work all night and day and lose myself. I've already done that once, and I'm lucky that I have another chance.

So what do I care what Holder's up to? _I don't._ It doesn't matter. He hasn't been as unpleasant to work with as I thought he'd be - he's smarter than he comes across at first, even if he's a pain in the ass – which he definitely is. And boy, does he think he's hilarious! What an ego.

But none of it matters – the good stuff, the bad stuff, what I think of him… none of it.

Because I have Rick. Because I'm moving to Sonoma. Because I'm walking away. Really. I am.

Tomorrow night.

…

It was late as Linden and Holder arrived back in what had once been her office, the office that they now shared until further notice. Linden shed her jacket, setting it on the chair beside her desk as they entered. Holder was still wearing his jacket, still standing, pacing slowly around the room.

"You got somewhere to be?" Linden's tone could be described as icy. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that tone, not by a long shot.

"Don't _you_?" he shot back. "Starts with an S, ends with an A… So-_no-_ma?"

Linden's gaze followed him for a minute before returning her attention to the case files in front of her. Without looking up again, she said "Don't worry, I'll be there soon. Jack and I leave tomorrow night. You can alert the press."

"So you think you're really leaving this time? Or you just practicing? Just trying to get our hopes up…"

"Very funny," Linden replied. She didn't look amused. _I knew this was coming, _she thought. _Let's get it over with._

"Cause you know, it's cool, if you changed your mind you can just say so. I know what a pleasure it is to work with me." Holder sat down at his desk, directing his boyish grin straight at her. _What's he so happy about? _she wondered. He reminded her of a puppy… in a lovable but very annoying way.

"Don't flatter yourself, Holder. Besides, who said it _was_ a pleasure?" _Oh snap, Linden!_ he thought. _Deadpan humor strikes again. It seems to be her specialty._

But still no smile. He was close though, he could feel it. _OK Linden, is that how you wanna be? he thought. _"What's wrong with being in a good mood? You should try it, you might like it… once you understand that that's what's happening to you. New experience and all."

_Holder's enjoying this way too much, _thought Linden. Why does he care what mood I'm in, anyway? "Hilarious, Holder. And who made you the expert on happiness?"

"Oh, I ain't claiming to be no expert or nothing. Just got myself a positive outlook… or I try to anyway. Some days it works better than others. It's all about how you deal with things. Life's too short and all that crap, you know?"

"Eloquently put. I've never heard that version before," Linden replied, the corners of her mouth turning up almost imperceptibly.

And there it was. The hint of a smile. Just a little one… but it was there. Why did it feel like such an accomplishment? _Damn, but she's a pain in the ass_, he thought.

"Come on, Linden, you know you're my BFF!"

"Shut up, Holder." _Was that an actual smile on her face this time?_

Holder starting moving slowly towards the door. "Alright, Linden, it's the middle of the night. I'm going home to sleep for a few hours, and you should too. For once, _you_ should listen to one of _my _ideas. The dead will still be dead tomorrow."

"You're even more hilarious late at night, you know that?" she asked evenly. It _was_ pretty late, and she _was _tired. But she had work to finish up if she wanted to leave tomorrow night. Which she did. Which she _would._

"This is what I've been trying to tell you all along!" Holder stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed, grinning.

"Shut up, Holder." _He was a pain in the ass alright, but he was an OK guy._

"You coming or what?" He leaned his head against the doorframe and stifled a yawn.

"I'm leaving tomorrow night, I need to keep working." She stifled a yawn of her own.

"Suit yourself, Linden. Hasta manana."


	8. A Going Away Present

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 6

DAY 6

Linden is standing by the car, parked on the street outside Bennett Ahmed's apartment. She's holding flyers with pictures of Rosie Larsen on them that she has just taken out of the car. Holder approaches, carrying only one cup of coffee this time.

"Thanks! I hate it when somebody brings me coffee."

"Don't be like that. I got you a going away present. But I'm saving it for when you, you know, actually _go away_." Looking very satisfied with his witty comeback, Holder leans against the car, drinking his coffee and smoking his cigarette. Linden ignores him, turns and begins walking slowly toward the apartments in front of them.

"We'll canvas this block. Maybe we get lucky, find somebody who saw her. I'm starting with Ahmed's neighbor. The other side of the street's yours."

"Hey, give me a second. The first one of the day, it always tastes the _best_." Holder's not in a hurry, and that alone is annoying Linden, still not even a minute after he arrived.

"After I leave and they give the case to someone else, and you're working Traffic, you can smoke all day," she tells him without looking back. She's already approaching the Ahmeds' neighbor's door.

_Holder _

Damn, Linden! Bite my head off, why don't you?

Maybe I should've brought her a coffee as a peace offering… I didn't realize I'd be needing one! She's even bitchier than usual this morning… so that means today'll be extra fun. Maybe she's pissy because it's supposed to be her last day here – if you believe _her_… which I _don't._

Don't know why Linden's in such a hurry to knock on doors today. She's always in too much for a hurry when it comes to work. Too much of a hurry to eat, even! OK, yeah, there's work to be done, but will those two minutes literally make or break the day? I mean, she's in a hurry to do everything….

Except, apparently, to _LEAVE_.

That life in Sonoma must be really, really good, cause clearly she's pumped to get there. Or not.

Whatever. If I've learned one thing in the past 6 days, it's that her bark is worse than her bite. That, and that she likes my jokes… though I should probably hold off on those til later today. No sense risking injury unnecessarily.

Alright, time to work my magic on the neighbors.

_Linden_

Holder's still _really_ enjoying the whole "you're still here" thing. Annoyingly so. OK, I guess maybe I've set myself up for it. I have missed _a few _planes in the past week. I couldn't just leave when… I mean, I guess I _could _have left… or is it that I _should have been able to_ leave? It wasn't all my fault. Oakes has forced me to stay more than once… but yeah, he didn't make me stay _every_ time… and really, what would he have done if I had refused to stay, if I had just left? Had me arrested?

Face it, Sarah, deep down you're already invested in this case. The very thing that you promised yourself from day one was _not_ going to happen. It's going to be painful to leave tonight, and you need to be ready for that. But you're going to do it… don't even let yourself doubt that, or it's all over.

Then there's Holder, who acts like we have all day to hang out, and that nothing needs to be accomplished. This is my _last day_ on this case! I don't have time to sit around smoking and drinking coffee! I know I won't solve it – _as much as that kills me_ \- but I _would_ like to tie things up as much as I can. Who knows what'll happen after I leave. I really wonder who'll end up working it, and if Holder'll be on it at all. He may have surpassed my first impression of him, but I'm not sure he could handle being lead on this one. Luckily, though, it won't be up to me. And I won't have to be here to see what happens. I won't be here…

…to know if they solve it.

Shit.

Nope, I'm leaving. I. Am. Leaving. Tonight.

…

"Mrs. Ahmed, open the door! Open the door right now!" called Linden and Holder, over and over again. They pounded on the door and shouted for what seemed like an eternity, but Amber Ahmed was nowhere to be seen. At least one of the Ahmeds' neighbors peered at them through the glass of _her _door. Finally, they gave up pounding and calling. Apparently no one was home, or so it seemed. It was time to think about their next move.

The evening was cool and clear, for once. They walked slowly back towards the car, parked at the curb in front of the apartment building. Holder had lit a cigarette before they got there, despite the short distance.

"So, what now, boss?" he asked casually. The day was almost over, and though he didn't believe deep down that Linden would be leaving that night, the idea that he could be in charge of this investigation if she _did _leave was quite attractive…

Linden shot him a look that he knew by now meant somewhere between a sarcastic _Very funny _and _Shut Up, Holder_, depending on the context.

"So, we know they're not home. Unless of course they're in there hiding out. Any idea where Bennett might be right now?" asked Holder, leaning back against the car. "Cause it looks like it's time to talk to him, _again_."

"I saw him this morning at the funeral. The Larsens had been setting up tables in their garage before that, probably for company afterwards… a wake, I guess? So he may be at the Larsens.'"

Something was gnawing at Holder about that. He hoped that Bennett was somewhere else, but Linden was probably right. It made sense that he'd be there.

"Does Stan Larsen know that we're investigating Bennett?" Holder wondered out loud.

"I'm not sure… _We_ didn't tell him, but he could have heard it from someone else…" She paused, knowing how easily something like that could have leaked during such a public investigation. She'd seen many more important details leaked in investigations that were much more closely guarded. "Before we jump to conclusions, let's head over there and see for ourselves. And I'm going to call about a warrant for the Ahmeds' place." Linden flipped open her phone as she opened the car door and got in. Holder was in the passenger seat before she had closed hers.

She talked as she drove, despite the fact that she didn't have a hands free phone connection. "We have a witness who saw the suspect and somebody else carrying the Larsen girl out of the building at midnight. I think the accomplice was the wife. She's not home, but we're headed out to pick up Mr. Ahmed now." Linden closed her phone and put it away. "ADA Bernstein'll call back."

Holder looked at her, suddenly remembering something. "Hey, check this. Old buddy of mine, he said Stan Larsen used to be mobbed up with the Poles. Said he might've killed some guys."

"Since when?"

"Got out of the game a long time ago. Stayed out."

"You didn't think to tell me this earlier?" _And Bennett's at Stan Larsen's house?_

"The girl look like a mob hit to you?"

"Call Bennett right now."

Linden had a _bad _feeling about this. She just hoped that she was wrong.


	9. Fear of Flying

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 7

DAY 7

Linden is in Lt. Oakes' office, discussing the search warrant for Bennett Ahmed's apartment, which has been pulled, "Mohammed" from the Mosque who apparently has a key to the Ahmeds' apartment, and Stan Larsen's history in the Polish mob. Holder walks in to see her standing there. She had failed to mention to him when they talked earlier that morning that she and Jack missed their flight the previous night, and he had thought that she was finally in California. To say that he's shocked to see her would be a big understatement.

"You _gotta_ be kidding me!" It doesn't appear to be a good surprise, judging from Holder's reaction. Actually, he looks pretty pissed off.

Oakes is consciously ignoring Holder's reaction, continuing his conversation with Linden. "You want that search warrant, get me something better than the nut job and the mob."

"Fine," she tells Oakes. Then she looks at Holder. "Come on."

"Yo, Lieutenant…" Holder is actually speechless. He thinks that the source of his confusion should be obvious, but apparently it isn't.

"What?" asks Oakes evenly.

_For real? _thinks Holder. He laughs in disbelief and starts to say something, but gives up. Apparently he's the only one who sees anything out of the ordinary happening here. He follows Linden into the hall.

"Yo, Linden… What the hell? You got fear of flying?" 

"I've got a lead," she says calmly, as if everything is normal, and Holder's being totally unreasonable. "You don't wanna come, you don't have to." She starts walking away from him, down the empty hallway.

"Hey, Linden!" At that, she turns around to face him. "You got your commitment issues, that's fine. Don't be using them to mess up my career."

This time it's Holder who walks away, and Linden who follows him.

…

_Holder_

You have got to be _fucking _kidding me! She's _here_? I mean OK she wasn't horrible to work with, but I had kinda assumed that she'd finally left for California, and that this was now _my_ case now. I mean, shit, how many times do a person have to buy a plane ticket before they actually get on the damn plane? So, what? I'm her lapdog again? _Fuck that! _

Man, I gotta get ahold of myself, before I say something I'll regret. But why can't Oakes see how fucked up this is? Why am I the _only_ one who seems to think this is anything but normal? Even for _Linden_, this is fucked up behavior!

Back when I said I didn't think she'd leave… I didn't actually _want_ to be right! I'd just gotten used to the idea that I was _wrong_ about her staying, and I'm not gonna lie, I was kinda glad she was gone. Not because of anything personal about her, just because it was gonna be good for me to be lead on the case… assuming Oakes didn't make someone else lead, of course. I guess I'm just kinda in awe about how how fucked up this whole thing is.

Deep breaths, Holder. One day – or maybe just one minute – at a time.

…

Linden and Holder are in the car, on the way to the mosque where Bennett Ahmed and his friend "Mohammed" are members, to talk to the Imam. As usual, Linden is talking on the phone and driving.

"No, Jack, you can't spend the night. You have school tomorrow. Well, that's the plan for now. OK, I'll pick you up later. Bye." Linden takes out another piece of nicotine gum.

Holder's eating what looks like, but knowing him, isn't, a hamburger. "Your old man make you quit smoking?"

"His name's Rick, and no he didn't," replies Linden dryly.

"I'll bet he ain't too happy with you, huh? How many times you stand him up now?" He pauses. "Ahhhhhh, I get it, I get it! He's one of them _understanding_ types, right?" Holder chuckles. "That explains why you don't wanna get on that plane."

"You know that thing you do, where you run your mouth off without thinking? That explains a lot too."

They drive the rest of the way in silence.

_Linden_

I know he's pissed at me for still being here, and I guess he has a right to be angry with me, but damn, that was low.

Holder says a lot of dumb shit, so I'm not sure why I'm surprised, but my relationship with Rick is really, _really_ none of his business. The fact is, Rick _isn't_ as understanding as I'm expecting him to be, as I'm asking him to be. I'm pushing my luck and I _know_ I'm doing it. So _why_ am I doing it? I wish I could answer that. All I know is I haven't been able to stop myself from getting involved in this case, and that every time I tell myself I'm leaving, I manage to find an excuse to stay.

What is it about me that makes me destroy everything good that happens to me? Why can't I just leave all this behind and go to Sonoma? _It's what I want_. Sonoma, that is. I know that I do this, that I shut out everything and everyone when I'm on a case… and yet, I still do it. _Why?_

And Rick. I'm happy with him… Do I say that a lot? I feel like I do. It's _not_ like I have to convince myself, because I don't. It may not have been something I grew up being familiar with, but this _is_ what happy feels like. I _want_ to go to Sonoma. I'm done with this life that drains me and pulls me in every direction, away from all of the good things in my life.

And yet, I'm still here.

…

Linden stopped the car in front of the mosque and turned off the engine. She sat looking straight ahead for a minute, before sighing quietly and glancing over at Holder, who'd been watching her out of the corner of his eyes since they last spoken to each other, about fifteen minutes earlier. "I'm… it's not fair to you the way things've happened in this case," she began evenly.

Holder wasn't sure she was done. He nodded at her, waiting.

"I had every intention of leaving. Not just this time. _Every time._ I was afraid that when Oakes put me on this case on my last day that I'd get sucked in again…" She blew out a slow breath. "It's my weakness, I guess. When I start a case, I have to see it through. I get so involved, I lose myself. I really didn't mean for this… I didn't mean to get in your way. Sorry." She turned her head slightly to look at him, almost mumbling the last word, but Holder heard it.

He paused, and when he did speak, his words came out just as slowly and evenly as hers had. "It's cool, Linden. That just makes us more alike than we thought… you know, besides both of us being so hard headed." He saw recognition flash in her eyes, though no trace of a smile. "And, you know, that's kinda what you have to do to go undercover, in a way – living the case – so I get it, really…" This time it was Linden who was watching _him_, her face unreadable, and nodding. "And you're not wrong, I guess there's stuff I _should_ keep to myself. Like whatever's between you and your man is none of my business… So, I'm sorry too."

"So we're good?" Linden wasn't sure why she asked this, but at that moment it was what she wanted to know. She didn't even know why she cared.

"Good? Of course we are!" Holder replied. "You know you're my BFF, Linden," He was suddenly grinning the same way he always did when he delivered his trademark one-liners. He needed to lighten the mood again, now that the heavy stuff was out of the way. He was rewarded for both his seriousness and his joke with the thing he seemed to always be trying for… the hint of a smile on his partner's face.

"Come on," she said as she opened the car door, "We've got work to do."


	10. Nothing

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 8

**Author's note**: I've been meaning to say thank you so much to **bandeapix** and **lizlovinnn** for coming over to this story with me from my first story, _Running,_ and leaving me reviews here as well! It's silly how much I enjoy and appreciate your comments, but I really, really do!

DAY 8

Linden had arrived at the police station that morning just in time to see Holder passing an envelope of something to someone through the window of a car that had pulled up to the curb in front of the precinct. That, combined with finding the FBI in her office, confiscating just about all of her Rosie Larsen files when she walked in the door had put her in a fouler mood than she'd been in for a long time… and that was really saying something!

So a little later, when Holder came in and greeted her with a "What's up Linden? How's Seattle's chilliest detective? You married yet?" she was already not amused. No, she wasn't even in the same universe as amused. Poor Holder, he didn't know what he was walking into, or that he didn't have a shot of reasoning with her that morning.

Not caring how the remark was meant, and choosing to take it as a jab, she retorted with a jab of her own. "How's your Blackjack game? Any more payouts yet?" The icy sarcasm dripped so heavily from her words, it was a wonder it didn't form a puddle on the floor. Also unfortunately for Holder, only the primary in the case was allowed into the 7:30 a.m. FBI terrorism briefing that he had shown up for, which meant that of the pair of them, only Linden was getting in.

A while Later, Holder saw Linden leave the briefing room and caught up with her in the hall, which wasn't easy because she was off like a shot. She'd been trying to get out of there without him seeing her.

"Yo, Linden! Hey, where you headed?"

"Nowhere," she said tonelessly.

"What'd they say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You were in there for like an hour…" He suddenly realized that something wasn't right, that she was shutting him out, _again_. His frustration, and the aggressiveness of his tone, both suddenly went up about three notches. "What the hell's your problem?" He was yelling now, but he didn't care.

"Why don't you make yourself useful, and stay here and do nothing?"

_Holder_

I have no idea what Linden's problem is this time… Seriously, none. Something's pissed her off, obviously, which is crazy because I thought we were good after yesterday. _Yesterday! _

She's gotta be the most infuriating person I've ever met! I don't know if she's pissed at me (and for WHAT? What'd I do _now?)_, or just pissed off, but I'm thinking I'm gonna have to wait for her to calm down at least a little before I can get to the bottom of whatever it is that has her so worked up. She's hard to talk to normally, much less when she's like this.

_Linden_

I can't believe I started to trust him. I can't believe I could be so stupid. Of course he's up to something. _**Of course he is!**_ Does it even matter what it is? I can't believe that _he'd_ be so stupid as to do whatever it was he was doing in front of the station! Not exactly discreet… but then, why should _that_ surprise me, either? This is Holder we're talking about!

This day just gets better and better! And the FBI! Asking questions about _my_ case, as if Rosie Larsen was a terrorist! _Come on!_ Why is everyone so incompetent? Why doesn't anyone else want this case _solved?_ I wish they'd all just leave me alone so I could do my goddamn job!

…

Sarah had gone to Lt. Oakes' office later that day to see if it would be possible to at least recover the shirt that she believed belonged to Rosie Larsen, which was now in FBI custody, so that it could be processed. Oakes had told her that she needed to let it go. It was now evidence in a federal case, one which took priority over hers.

But that wasn't all he needed to say to her. Holder wasn't the only one who'd noticed the way Linden had been treating her temporary partner.

"You were supposed to train Holder, but you treat him like a lapdog," said Oakes. "What's going on?"

Linden knew that he wasn't wrong. "I have some concerns about his ability to be an effective investigator." Which she did, but she also knew that her concerns hadn't warranted the extent of her behavior. However, this was no time to make such an admission.

Oakes sighed and looked at his hands. He didn't want to have to say what he was about to say. He hated that it had come to this, because Sarah Linden had always been such a keen and insightful detective. Intuitive even. "Maybe it's time to think about wrapping up here, Sarah. Heading to California."

And that was it. Oakes was no longer asking her, begging her – no, _requiring her _– to stay. He obviously didn't feel like she was helping the case anymore, and he was asking her – ordering her? – to leave. The only thing that made her angrier than the fact that he had made her stay in the first place was that he was now telling her to go. _**Now**__ he wants me to go? Now that I'm in so far I can't possibly pull myself out?_ she screamed in her head. She sat in the chair in his office, staring at him, speechless. After a minute of stunned, awkward silence she stood without a word and slowly walked out of his office.

As if on autopilot, she walked down the hall to the office that she and Holder shared. She went in, flicked on the lights, closed the door and then stood in the center of the room. She found everything just as she had left it the last time she'd been there – that is, still missing nearly all of the files from the Rosie Larsen case. Her eyes darted everywhere. Her mind was running a million miles a second, but she stood as calm and still as a statue.

She was the eye of the storm that was raging around her, a storm that was raging even harder inside of her, so hard that she found herself immobilized. She wanted to scream, she wanted to hurl everything that still remained in that office to the ground, but for what? What good would it do? None. Why did it feel like nothing she did would do any good at all? What had she done _any_ of it for, if it was going to come to this in the end?

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to get out of that room. Out of the police station. It was as if the air inside was suddenly suffocating her, and if she stayed there another second she would choke. She wheeled around, flung open the door and nearly ran over a tech who happened to be passing by as she headed for the exit. She didn't even look back as the startled newbie mumbled an apology for bumping into her. She had to get out of that building as quickly as she could. _Right now._

She burst out of the front door of the station with such force that the few people who were milling around outside looked up, startled. One of the officers who was standing outside, smoking, actually reached towards his gun before realizing that it was one of his fellow police officers causing the commotion. They continued to watch her as she stomped across the parking lot towards her car. Sarah Linden was known in the department for her intensity, but even those who knew her watched her in surprise at that moment.

She just had to make it to her car, so that she could shut out the rest of the world.


	11. What You See Is What You Get

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episodes 8 and 9

DAY 8, evening

Linden had done something that she wasn't proud of, but by doing so, she had found the answer to one of the questions that had burned inside for the past few days: what was Holder hiding? The answer, it turned out, had become clear when she had followed him to a dark basement earlier that day, where his NA meeting had taken place. She had learned a lot more about him and about his past than she had ever expected as he had stood at that podium.

It's already dark when Sarah and Jack arrive at the docks. Jacks storms off toward Regi's boat as soon as the car stops. Linden starts to follow him, when suddenly Holder approaches her, walking down the sidewalk. She hadn't even seen him coming.

"Hey, Linden. What's with Little Man?"

"Nothing. What're you doing here?"

Holder doesn't answer her, just looks out at the water beyond the docks. "Sweet view. You living here now?"

"For a little while, yeah."

He tells Linden that he got an emergency wiretap with the phone company for Ahmed's phone. "I had to do something while you were shutting me out."

For the second time that day, Sarah Linden is embarrassed by her behavior towards Holder. "That's all arranged, I'm guessing?" She sounds slightly apologetic, and possibly even a little bit impressed at his initiative.

"Yeah. Judge Elliot? I know him back from my Narco days. Me and him are like…" he makes some hand motions resembling a secret handshake. "It's not going to be a problem."

"OK. Til then we don't need to tell Oakes."

"I know… So, um, is there something, is there something you want to ask me?" He's trying to make it easy for her, just in case she has any questions that hadn't been answered by what she had already seen.

"Not anymore, no."

"Good. Cause what you see is what you get."

"Yeah. I should've known… subtlety isn't exactly your strong suit." They both laugh at this observation. It's a pretty big understatement, after all, and Holder can't exactly argue with her on this one.

"No, maybe not. So what do you say, you want to be my date tonight, sit on the wire?" He could have given her a hard time about the whole thing, and on another day he might've. But really, it wouldn't have accomplished anything… and when it came down to it, he'd rather that they got along. They made a pretty good team.

"Yeah why not? He'd rather be with Regi anyways."

"I'll drive," he says. This time, Linden doesn't argue. It's about time she gives the guy a break, after all.

_Holder_

Well, now I know why Linden was pissed at me this morning. She saw me meet up with Gil. I guess from her perspective, I was acting suspicious. She probably thought she was seeing me do something illegal, and that made her _think_ I couldn't be trusted. OK, I _could've _told her, though I certainly was within my rights not to… it's no one else's business where I was going. Except that then I get myself into exactly the situation I ended up in. Oh well, she knows now.

I was _so_ pissed at her when I realized that she'd followed me to the meeting… but I guess in her situation I'd have been suspicious too. And following people who act suspiciously is kinda _exactly_ what we do for a living.

So, I could've gotten all self-righteous, all "how dare you follow me, why don't you trust me?" on her, but no… that wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't make it better. We've kinda become partners - we weren't supposed to be, but since she hasn't left (and probably won't), it's just happened. And partners have to be able to trust each other. Hopefully she'll trust me, eventually.

_Linden_

Am I a little bit ashamed of myself for following him to the NA meeting? _Yes. _

Can I understand why he didn't tell me what he was really doing? _Yes. _

Should I have trusted him? Maybe even just asked him a question instead of jumping to conclusions? _Probably._ He _might_ have told me what was actually going on, if I'd given him the chance.

Should I apologize now, since he knows that I followed him? _Probably. _

Will I be able to make myself? _That remains to be seen._ I _hate _apologizing. Not because I can't stand to be wrong (though who _does _like to be wrong?), but because I can't stand not to be in control. You never know how someone is going to react to the truth.

…

DAY 9

Holder was pacing the length of their small office early the next morning when Linden slowly opened the door and stepped in. They looked at each other without smiling or speaking. They were knee deep in a serious case, and there wasn't generally a lot to smile about, but they still _usually_ managed conversations. Holder generally supplied the jokes – one of his specialties. However, today wasn't one of those days. They'd been asked to come in and meet with Lt. Oakes, and had ten minutes until they were supposed to be in his office. Linden closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it. She still hadn't said a word. She really had no idea what she should say. What was there _to _say?

"I'm sorry, Linden, I really thought it was a sure thing." Holder stopped pacing and crossed his arms, looking at the floor and sighing in frustration before looking back at her.

Linden nodded and uttered a barely audible "Yeah," before she took off her jacket and tossed it on the chair beside her desk. Glancing back at Holder again, she realized that he was waiting for her to say something. "We'll figure it out, Holder. There's always another way."

Holder, though he still looked pained, managed a weak but grateful smile. He wanted so much to impress the people he worked with – Oakes, of course, but mainly Linden. He used to wonder why he wanted her approval so much, but he had slowly come to understand that it was because she was so good at her job. The fact that she seemed to think so little of him most of the time played a part as well.

It struck him that she was reassuring him about the fact that the warrant hadn't gone through, _not_ the fact that they were most likely in serious trouble with Oakes, as if that part wasn't even a concern of hers.

That the warrant being killedwas what she thought was the bigger deal was encouraging to him. Of _course_ she was more discouraged by obstacles in her way of getting to the truth than she was by what the LT thought of her. Linden didn't care what _anyone_ thought of her. She believed in doing what was right in order to solve a case, no matter what the consequences to herself – to a fault sometimes, even when she _should_ care about what happened to her. It made Holder both admire her _and _worry about her. _Someone _should worry about her, since she clearly didn't worry about herself, and she didn't have anyone in her life - except her son, Jack - who would, at least not as far as he could tell.

He looked up and caught her watching him, and he realized that he had zoned out for a minute or two. Judging from the look on her face, she was waiting for a response. "Sorry, what did you say?" he asked her.

"I just said that we need to head down to Oakes' office," she repeated, looking at him carefully. "Are you OK?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought for a second there." He tried to muster a smile, despite a growing sense of apprehension about the meeting they were about to have. Linden may not have been nervous about what Oakes was going to say, but _he _was. "You know how we do."

Despite everything that was going on that day, Holder's last comment made the faintest trace of a smile appear on Linden's face, and that smile made it a tiny bit easier to deal with the fact that he felt like they were marching to their death as they followed the hallway to Lt. Oakes' office. At least, if nothing else, they were in it together.


	12. An Illegal Wiretap

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 9

DAY 9

Linden and Holder stand side by side across the desk from Oakes in his office. Unbeknownst to Linden, Holder had tried to get a wiretap on Ahmed's phone using the Patriot Act… _after_ the recording had taken place – which was definitely _not_ the way he had explained his actions to her. Oakes is now playing the recording of Ahmed's phone call over the speaker.

Oakes stops the recording at the end. To say that he's angry is an understatement. "You know, I wish I could play for you the phone call I got from ADA Bernstein this morning, asking me why one of my detectives is going directly to a judge to obtain an _illegal wiretap_!"

"Sir…" Holder began, but Oakes didn't let him go any further.

"I don't give a rat's ass how you do things at County. Now you obviously _don't_ like being a City homicide detective, do you?"

"It was my idea. I told him to set up the tap," Linden volunteered, despite the fact that she had done no such thing, hadn't even known that that was what Holder had done. It was the least she could do, since she had at times actively tried to _prevent_ him from helping her until this point.

This didn't make Oakes feel any better, however. "You're supposed to _keep him from screwing up_, not show him how!"

Linden remained calm. "We don't need the tap as evidence. We get the phone company to unblock Mohammad's number, track its location, we get Mohammad, we get Bennett."

"With that little stunt last night? A public defender could get that thrown out." Oakes was angrier than Linden had ever seen him.

"So is that it, then?" she wasn't going to stand in his office any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Look, I asked you to stay here to solve this case, not ruin my career."

_Ruin your __**career?**__ Excuse me? _With sarcasm dripping from her words, Linden replied, "I didn't realize that's what I'd been doing all these years." Then she left his office without another word, before she said something she would regret later. Holder wasn't far behind her.

_Holder_

I don't know what happened in there, except that Linden just took a bullet for me, so to speak. I sure as hell did _not _see that coming! This is the same cop who has been almost nothing but a pain in my ass practically every day that we've worked together…

And yet for some reason I care about her opinion. Why? Crazy as it is, I do, because she is damn good at her job.

So why the hell did she tell Oakes that she told me to set up the wiretap? After finding out that I'm an addict, suddenly she's willing to lie for me? It would make more sense if it'd been the opposite, that she found out about my past and _then_ shut me out. And how did she change her mind that fast, because that meeting was _yesterday! _Guilty conscience, maybe? She finally felt bad about never really giving me a chance?

This whole situation is kind of insane. But then, this _is _Linden we're talking about. I wouldn't exactly call her stable. I've never met someone who seems to operate so completely based on her emotions. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I have no idea.

_Linden_

Why _did_ I tell Oakes that I told Holder to set up that wiretap? Am I crazy? Since when am I covering for _Holder_, of all people?

Then again, I guess it makes sense when I really think about it… Oakes did have a point when he said I've treated Holder like a lapdog. I guess I just felt bad about all that, and I didn't want him to get taken off the case before he _really_ had a chance to work on it. Because that was my fault, not his.

Granted, he did something stupid. OK, lots of stupid things. But it's not his fault that I hate working with a partner and always have. That's not his fault. And since I'm still here and he's here, and we seem to be working this case together, the least I can do for the guy is not screw up his career_ for_ him – he seems more than capable of doing that on his own – and for no other reason than I don't like working with people.

So basically, I felt guilty about acting like a bitch.

…

Though Oakes had read them the riot act, it didn't mean for a second that there wasn't still work to be done on their case. There was actually _more _work to be done now to make up for the wiretap that had blown up in their faces.

However, neither of them had eaten breakfast that day, because they had needed to be in early for their meeting and because of their varying degrees of nerves. But Holder had made it clear that food was going to be their first priority after they met with Oakes. His exact words had been, "Linden, you're gonna eat. No discussion."

Therefore, after their verbal lashing, the pair headed for the car without a word. Linden would have gone straight back to work, of course, but Holder had insisted that they needed to eat _something_. Linden had the keys, and this time Holder didn't care one way or the other who was driving.

As a matter of fact, since they left Oakes' office, Holder hadn't said _anything_. He hadn't spoken since being interrupted by Oakes at the beginning of their "conversation." It was definitely not like Holder to be so quiet, and certainly not for this long. Linden buckled her seatbelt, put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. Instead, she stopped and looked at him with concern. "You ok, Holder?" Holder had been staring out the window, but her question seemed to bring him back to the present.

"What? Yeah, I'm OK," said Holder unconvincingly, still looking out the window. After another minute he turned and looked her, holding her gaze before he spoke. Linden could see the wheels turning in his head. "Whatever made you do it, thanks, Linden." There was no question that he was talking about the fact that she had taken the blame for the wiretap that had just gotten them in so much trouble.

"Yeah, well, it's about time I was helping you instead of shutting you out," she replied, referring to their conversation by the docks. She glanced out the front window before looking back at him. "Besides," she continued seriously, "you clearly need all the help you can get." She raised an eyebrow and grinned ever so slightly at her own joke.

The smile that crept over Holder's face made him look more like himself than he had only a minute before. "No doubt about that!" he agreed. "But right now, what I most need help with is getting some food. You up to the challenge? Or should I drive?" _Yep, Holder was definitely back to normal_, thought Linden.

"Nope, I got this." Linden turned the key in the ignition and maneuvered out of the parking lot.

Just like she wasn't going to let Holder get booted from the case – for reasons beyond her comprehension, since he sure was a pain in the ass – Holder wasn't going to let her get away with not doing the basics of taking care of herself, like eating.

It occurred to Linden that though she hated to admit it, knowing that someone was looking out for her for a change kind of felt good.


	13. Almost Midnight

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 10

DAY 9, almost midnight

Linden and Holder are back in their office. It turns out that Bennett Ahmed, along with the mysterious "Mohammed," has been hiding Aisha, a Somali girl trying to escape female circumcision. He was _not_ trying to cover up Rosie Larsen's murder. Not only did Ahmed _not _kill Rosie Larsen, but he has just ended up in the hospital, beaten half to death because someone is convinced that he killed her. It's all just a horrible coincidence.

Linden and Holder had thought they were so close to solving the case, and now they're back to square one, except with an innocent man lying in the hospital. Frustrating isn't the right word for this day. It's devastating.

Holder collapses into his chair. Linden stands by her desk for a minute, staring at it, then begins straightening the supplies that she left there earlier. Holder knows that she's almost ready to break. "Come on, let's go," he tells her wearily.

She doesn't respond, just continues shuffling things around on her desk with increasing ferocity. Holder is now standing in the doorway, watching her. "Come on Linden, it's almost midnight. You can get all anal tomorrow."

"You don't have to wait for me," she finally snaps at him in a quiet but fierce voice.

He knows that she's blaming herself. He walks back into the room towards her as he says, "He was a_ good_ suspect. You know, any cop would've done what we did." Because he knows her by now, he knows that she needs to hear this – if she'll even listen.

"I _never_ should've talked to the Larsens." She sighs and collapses into her chair.

"Yo, Linden, it ain't your fault. He _lied_ to us. Lied to us about his relationship with Rosie, lied to us about that night, about the girl. I mean, if he'd of been straight with us things would've turned out different."

"Maybe. Or maybe he would've ended up in jail for kidnapping a minor. He didn't have much choice, did he?"

"If you wanna get all worked up about it, that's your thing." Linden gives him a look that tells him she isn't taking his words the way he means them. "I'm not saying he _deserved_ it. You know, I feel bad about it too, but I'm telling you one thing. I'm not gonna let myself lose any sleep over it… And neither should _you_."

Linden just continues to lean back in her chair, staring at him. Holder walks slowly back to the door of the office, then turns around to look at her.

"You coming?"

"Yeah." Linden gets up, feeling every tired muscle in her body ache. Just before she can follow Holder out of the office, the phones rings. She answers it to learn that Stan Larsen has turned himself in for beating up Bennett Ahmed.

_Holder_

Of all the things I might have expected in this case, what actually happened is NOT one of them. To get so close – or think we were getting so close – only to have to start over pretty much from the beginning… well, it sucks. No way around it. I'm exhausted just from getting this far. I hate the thought that it was all for nothing… but that's the job sometimes. Not like it hasn't happened before.

But Linden… poor girl is gonna make herself crazy if she don't watch out. She gets this look on her face when she's really intense over part of a case – I mean, I'm gonna assume that her behavior in this case is the norm, cause I've only ever seen her work this case – and I can just tell she's spinning the wheels fast and furious… but not healthy levels of intensity, the ones for mere mortals. It's like, she don't have the switch that most people have that tells then when they're going out of the realm of logic and reason. Or that she has to sleep or eat or shower. On top of everything else, she blames herself for all of the chaos going on in this case, which is insane, because she tried everything within her power and lots of things that are not at all within her power to figure it all out.

So maybe I do have a purpose around here after all (besides my sparkling personality and pretty face, of course), because whether she wants to admit it or not, she can't do it all on her own… and besides, someone needs to keep her connected with Planet Earth.

_Linden_

I just… it doesn't seem possible. I can't believe how many different ways I fucked this up. I should've known. I should've seen it. I should've… I don't even know what I should've done, but I should've done _something_ differently. That's the worst part: the "what if's." What if there was a detail I missed somewhere along the way, and if I'd just noticed it, we'd have realized…

I just have to work _harder_. I need to get to the truth.

…

DAY 10, evening

They had been up for fifty hours straight. FIFTY. HOURS. Holder was having trouble focusing on what he was doing, and he sure as hell wasn't able to think about all the details of the case. When he finally stood up to leave, Linden asked where he was going… she acted like his going home to sleep after fifty hours on the job was completely unreasonable.

Holder walked out of their office, slowly on his way to the parking lot. Linden followed him into the hall.

"Seriously, you're leaving?"

"Linden, chill! I'm fucking exhausted! You can go for days without sleep, but I can't!"

"We have to _solve_ it!"

"We _will!_ But it's not gonna happen tonight, and it's definitely not gonna happen if we both collapse."

She was pissed off, but she knew he was right. She hated the fact that she had to stop to sleep at all. She liked to think that she could power through anything… but the last few days were starting to catch up with her, too.

He gave it one more shot. "Linden, seriously, it's not healthy. You need to sleep."

Come to think of it, she _was_ having trouble focusing… she sighed heavily. "I know, I just…" She couldn't find the right words, but she didn't need to. He knew her well enough by now.

He walked back down the hall to where she was standing. "Come on, go get your coat. I'm not taking no for an answer."

_Dammit, I hate when he's right._

Linden did as instructed. She hadn't realized quite how tired she was until she walked out into the hallway to chastise him for leaving. She didn't have the energy to fight with him about it.

He was waiting for her in the hall, leaned heavily against the wall, when she came back out with her coat on. "You need a ride back to the docks? I can drop you off."

"Uh, no, that's OK, thanks. I can make it." It was easier not to have to explain why she wasn't staying there anymore, at least for the time being. They walked down the silent hallway together.

Just before they went their separate ways to go to their respective cars, Linden told him "I'm still mad at you," but it was obvious that she wasn't actually mad.

"I know, I know, you wanna work yourself to death. Not gonna let it happen, Linden. Now go home and sleep. You're not allowed back here for at least eight hours!"

"Who put you in charge?" she asked in mock indignation.

"I did. Now _go home!"_ he told her firmly, but with a trace of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going. Good night."

"Night, Linden."


	14. Running Away

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 11

DAY 11

Linden had gotten a phone call. Jack hadn't been at school for three days, today included, though she had dropped him off there that morning. He was also not at the hotel. He was not with Regi – she and her boat were in the San Juan islands til next Friday. He was not with Nash. He was not at "The Tunnel."

Holder had gone with her to all of these places, had refused to leave her to look for him alone, even when she had told him it was fine, that he should go. She knew he had somewhere to be – a date or something – but no, he hadn't gone anywhere. He'd had her back with the middle school wanna-be "thugs," even though she would've argued that she hadn't needed back up, of course. He'd even managed to unblock Jack's phone by guessing his password – "Funyuns," of all things.

He was supposed to meet up with Liz for Davie's school parade that afternoon. He felt bad, but there was no way he could make it, not the way things were going today. There was no way he was leaving Linden. Not now.

He dialed Liz's cell phone number, but got her voicemail. He couldn't decide if it was better that he hadn't gotten her in person or not. At least this way he could say what he needed to say without her yelling at him. He didn't have to hear the disappointed tone in her voice, the one that told him she had expected this of him all along.

Holder grasped for the words to explain. "Hey Liz, umm, I'm not going to be able to make it to the parade. Uh, yeah see there's, uh, there's this friend and, uh, she's in need, and it's kinda like an emergency, you know? Or, it _is_ an emergency and…"

"Liz, this ain't like before. Alright? This is for real. And you know I wouldn't have missed this thing for anything in the world, but, Liz, I… I gotta see this through. You know, she… she needs me, you know?"

"And… and please tell Little D that I'm coming over later, cause I still got something for him… if that's OK. Please call and tell me if that's OK for me to come on by."

After leaving the message for Liz, Holder went back to the car. Linden was waiting there for him. She'd been leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed, but she opened them when he got into the car.

"Is everything OK?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

"Thanks Holder, for being my ride."

Those six words had come to mean a lot to them, though they had started out as something Holder had said out of frustration with her early on. Neither of them really had anyone else to depend on in their lives… not anyone they could _really_ lean on, who would see the _good _in them. So those six words translated to something more like "Thanks for being there, for believing in me." Because really, in the end, that was all that mattered. It was what both of them needed more than anything, whether they realized it or not.

"Yeah well… it ain't no thing." Holder looked down, not meeting her eyes, though she continued to look at him. He wouldn't have done _this_ much for just anyone, nice guy though he was. It was hard to explain, other than how he had explained it to Liz. "She needs me."

_Holder_

_Holy shit_. I've seen Linden lose her mind many times before… but this is a different, exceptional kind of stress. No one should _ever _have to go through this. She keeps telling me she's ok, but this is the kind of day that some people go into therapy for – for a long time.

She told me I should go, but there's no way I could do that to her. Never. She _wants_ to believe that she doesn't need anyone, ever, and maybe she really does believe it… but I see right through that. She needs me. When was the last time anyone needed _anything_ from me? I can't let her down. I won't.

_Linden_

_Oh. My. God._

I can't… I don't… I…

He has to be alright. _He has to_. But where is he? WHERE? What did he do? What could have happened to him?

Breathe, Sarah. Find the clues. What do you know?

Just maybe, it's like what Holder said…

"_Sometimes I think you just run away just so someone'll come looking for you."_

I know that I don't pay enough attention to Jack, that I'm not there for him like I should be. I want to be. I just… it's just so hard. So hard to be there, to be needed like that. I don't know how to be needed like that.

Or was Holder talking about _me_?

"_Sometimes I think you just run away just so someone'll come looking for you. Staying put? It's kinda running away. You know what I'm saying?"  
_

"_I usually have no idea, and this time is no different."_

"_Sonoma? Come on!"_

Am I? Running away by staying? I had every intention – _honestly _– of leaving this job, this life. I loved the idea of moving to Sonoma, of being with Rick… at least… I _think _I did… Admit it, Sarah, you wouldn't know happy if it kicked you in the face. I guess what I felt was what I thought it "should" feel like… but then… how happy could I actually have been about the idea of being in Sonoma with Rick if I'm still _here_? Especially knowing how he feels about me being here! Or, is the problem that I just don't _want_ to be happy?

_Or_ was Holder talking about both Jack _and_ me… I guess I've passed that on to him, poor kid.

As much as I hate to have to admit it, I think Holder has a point. But do most people feel that way sometimes? Like you want to believe that someone cares enough to come looking for you? Like you want them to _prove_ that they care by looking for you… literally or figuratively, or maybe both. Like you're afraid that the truth is they _won't_ care enough to come looking for you?

It can't just be me… or is it?

_Dammit, Jack, where are you?_

…

Linden realized that Holder had been talking to her. She had been staring out the window, not really focusing on anything except the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Or was it hunger? When had she last eaten, anyway?

"Yo, Linden! You hear me?" Holder was looking at her from the corner of his eyes as he was driving when she finally looked over.

"Sorry, what?" she asked, sounding dazed.

"We are going to stop to get something to eat. You got a preference?" He had seen her eat so seldom, he still didn't really know what she actually _liked_, if anything.

"No, I'm not hungry."

"I'm sorry, I think you misheard me. _We_ are stopping for food. We are both stopping, we are both eating." He had a very serious look on his face. Sarah didn't have the energy to argue with him.

"Fine. Whatever, I'm not hungry anyway." Holder would have to take his victories where he could get them with her, and he knew it.

He parked in front of some nondescript fast food restaurant. Luckily for them, for once, it wasn't raining, so they didn't end up soaking wet for the third or fourth (but who could really keep track?) time that day. Once inside, Holder ordered what sounded to Linden like enough food for a small army, though she didn't focus on what any of it was. Once the order was heaped onto the tray, they found seats at a somewhat clean looking table and slid onto opposite sides of the booth. Holder gave her a coffee, black (that much he _had_ learned about her) – though she probably didn't need any more caffeine today - and told her to choose something from the tray. She chose the smallest, most normal looking thing there, a small container of fries, and started munching on one so that Holder would relax. She felt slightly like throwing up, but it was probably to be expected in this situation, and he knew rationally that he was right, she should try to eat _something._

She did her best to hold up her end of the conversation, though she was fairly sure that she only heard about half of what was going on around her. Holder didn't seem to mind. He was just happy that she had eaten something. He thought she was doing OK, all things considered. Of course, they hadn't found Jack yet.

"You ready, Linden?" he asked, pulling her out of yet another daze as he stood up to leave.

"Yeah, let's go," Linden agreed wearily. They walked out of the restaurant and into the deepening darkness of a late fall afternoon


	15. It's Not Him

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episodes 11 and 12

DAY 11, evening

It's dark now, the rain has stopped and Linden and Holder are sitting in the car. Linden has her head down in her hands, Holder is staring out the window. Both are lost in thought somewhere else.

Suddenly the police radio crackles to life. "CS Unit needed down at 3012 Leverage Street, body of an unidentified Caucasian male, ten to thirteen years of age, five foot three, one hundred ten pounds, brown hair, coroner's en route. We need two more units on scene."

Holder is now watching Linden cautiously, as if he is fully expecting her to explode at any second. "It's not him," he almost whispers.

…

_Linden_

No. _NO! _It can't be Jack. He has to be OK. He _has to_.

I can't…

But, what if…

_Oh my God… __**please, no**_**.**

We have to get there. Right now. I have to see for myself. Holder knows me. He's going to know that I'm not taking no for an answer. One way or the other, I have to know.

…

"3012 Leverage Street."

"You don't need to be there." He says it, but he knows that that's where they're going. He says it more as a reassurance to her than an attempt to convince her that they shouldn't go.

"Go." There's absolutely nothing that's going to change her mind, so they go, lights and sirens on.

Sarah is out and running past the other detectives as soon as Holder stops the car at the scene, before anyone has time to realize what she's doing there or why she's running, much less to be able to stop her.

"Linden, st-!" It's too late, she reaches the body before he can even tell her to stop, much less stop her. But Holder catches up to her quickly, a few feet from the plastic draped body, where Sarah has stopped. She can't see from where they are whether it's Jack or not, and she's suddenly afraid to go any closer.

"Let's get back to the car." Holder knows she won't, but he feels like he needs to try. Who knows what they're about to find.

"I just need to see him," she says stubbornly.

"No, you don't need to see him." Holder suddenly grabs her from behind, arms wrapped around the middle of her tightly, to keep her from going any closer to the body. She pushes back fiercely against him – they're both trained police officers, and pretty evenly matched, so it's quite a struggle.

"GET OFF OF ME!" Linden shrieks.

"It's not him! _It's not him!_" Holder knows that she's so trapped inside her own head that she probably can't hear him, but he says it anyway.

…

_Holder_

Stay with me, Linden. Come on, I got you. _It's not him._ Don't ask me how I know, I just know. Little Man's OK. I swear, Little Man's OK. It's _**all**_ gonna be OK. Scream as loud as you want. I got you…

…

Linden screams and flails against Holder's restraint. He isn't deterred.

"_Jack!_"

Suddenly the radio is crackling again, and Holder slowly releases his hold on her as he feels her relax so that she can hear the radio. "We got an ID on John Doe. Please stand by for an ID on the victim." The wait until the voice on the radio announces the victim's identity seems to last an eternity.

The voice on the radio continues. "I've got positive identification on the victim as one Daniel McClintock, M-C-C-L-I-N-T-O-C-K, first name Daniel. Address is 549 Hastings Street, Aberdeen. Parents en route. Stand by."

Linden walks slowly around the corner of a nearby building – all of the adrenaline of the past few minutes has suddenly drained from her body – and collapses on the ground. She begins to sob with relief. She hasn't found Jack, but at least there's no proof that anything terrible has happened to him. There's still hope.

It has all been too much. Holder watches her from a few feet away as the sobs shake her body, then slowly comes to sit beside her. He puts his hand gingerly on her shoulder, unsure of how she'll react, but wanting to comfort her somehow. She doesn't flinch, and he rubs her shoulder ever so slightly.

This is the other side of his tough-as-nails partner, the side that she hides from the world by keeping everyone at arm's length. Until now.

Finally, Sarah's tears subside and her breathing returns to normal. "Let's go," Holder almost whispers. Linden nods slightly and they both get to their feet.

Back at the hotel, they wind through the hallways until, rounding a corner, they suddenly see Jack at the far end of the hall. He's standing in front of the door to their room. He's listening to music over his headphones and doesn't notice them. Linden and Holder stand side by side, looking at the boy who has caused so much heartache that day. Without taking his eyes off Jack, Holder says, "Kick his ass."

"No doubt," Linden replies, also still watching her son.

Before they go their separate ways, they exchange one final look and a smile. It takes only a second, but the understanding between them after the emotional day they've spent together is so strong, that one look conveys almost an entire conversation.

_Linden_

What could I even have said to Holder after a day like today? I guess something like, "Thanks, Holder, for everything. Mostly, for being here. It meant a lot."

But I could tell just looking at him… he knew.

_Holder_

Sticking with Linden today was one of the best decisions I've made in a long time. It wasn't what you'd consider fun, of course, but man, sometimes you do something and you just know it was the right thing to do. You just feel it. This was one of those things.

She may not have said it, but I know I made a difference by being there today. I saw it in her eyes right before she went in to read Little Man the riot act. It's pretty cool when you can read a look someone gives you as if it was actual words. I don't know exactly what my look said to her, but I was going for something like, "No problem, Linden. You know you're my BFF. Whatever you need, you know I got you. And I'm glad Little Man's OK."

...

DAY 12

Linden and Holder had met up with Holder's former partner, Cami, from his days in undercover vice. She hadn't had a lot of information for them, but she was the one who'd told them about _Beau Soleil_, so it was a good start.

On their way back to the station from their little chat with Cami, the traffic suddenly ground to a halt. It looked like they were going to be stuck in the car for a while.

"You OK, Linden?" Holder asked, watching her carefully. Only 24 hours before, the search for Jack had just officially begun. He imagined that that was bound to take a toll on a person, their child going missing for a whole day. He'd watched her fall apart yesterday, and she'd been quiet today as well. He was still worried.

They were stopped at a traffic light, with Linden driving once again. She turned to look at him and smiled just a little. He was pretty sure it was the first time he'd seen her smile all day.

"Yeah, I'm doing better." Linden lied. She had been relieved when Jack had showed up last night, and she could lie to herself and say she was doing better, but she didn't feel it. There was something gnawing at her, even after Jack had gotten home safe.

It was probably more to do with the case at the moment, she thought. When she engrossed herself in a case, she often didn't come up for air until it was solved.

Holder looked at her skeptically, and Linden could tell that she was found out, discovered. He seemed to be able to see right through her bullshit. "Alright, busted," She threw up her hands in mock surrender. "Not better, really."

"I think you'll be alright," he said.

"Oh?" she asked, "you're gonna make sure of that?"

"Yes, I am," he replied, "I mean, you're my ride, Linden, I have to look out for you." For this comment he was rewarded with that rare gem – a small but genuine smile on his partner's face.


	16. Customer Service

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 12

DAY 12

Linden is at her desk composing an email to Orpheus when her phone rings. It's Holder, calling her from the hotel room, where he's waiting for Celine, his Beau Soleil "date."

"She show up yet? Your big date?" 

"No, she's late. I'm telling you, Linden, customer service just ain't what it used to be." He looks through a refrigerator full of water and alcohol, choosing a bottle of water.

"Yeah, well, Aleena's postings are our only link to Orpheus, so you'd better be willing to put out, Holder," she tells him. For once _she's_ the one giving _him_ a hard time.

"Yo speaking of, when are _you_ going on some dates? You know your man in Cali's MIA, Jack's running off to Chicago… Linden, you there?"

Linden, meanwhile, besides wanting to change the subject back to work, has uncovered something that may be important. "Did you know Drexler is one of Richmond's top donors?"

"So?" Holder doesn't see a connection.

"Richmond might know something relevant."

Just then, there's a knock on the door of Holder's hotel room.

"I'm out, my date's here."

Linden can't help but smile about Holder's "date," because she finds his current assignment very amusing. "Be safe," she tells him, her smile even apparent in her voice, and hangs up.

_Holder_

Finally, a task that Linden _couldn't_ tell me she was taking over even if she had wanted to. Not that she's been doing that the last few days. I seem to have finally gotten out of the doghouse with her. She's stopped giving me such a hard time, even started acting like I might know what I'm talking about. I gotta say, it's a nice change.

Of course, she'll probably get pissed at me again for something, like, tomorrow, if not sooner. That's just how she rolls. But it's all good, keeps things interesting.

_Linden_

Really, I should know better than to bring up "putting out" when talking to Holder, knowing how he loves to mess with me…

He didn't seriously think I was going to respond to his baiting me about going on dates… because there was no way I was going there. If there's one thing I _don't_ need to be doing, it's going on dates, and if I did, I don't think I would talk about it with Holder.

I don't even know where things stand with Rick – I haven't talked to him in a few days – but I know I don't need to go out looking for extra drama in my life. I can create more than enough drama all by myself. I hope he was kidding. Knowing him, he was probably just trying to get under my skin, like usual. Well, mission NOT accomplished.

…

DAY 13

They'd been canvassing gas stations – talking to owners, employees and customers – for the better part of the afternoon. It was getting monotonous and frustrating, and so far they hadn't turned up a single lead. They were both getting a little bit irritable.

"Hey, when did you eat last?" Holder asks as they get ready to head to yet another gas station that will likely be as thankless as all of the other ones they've visited so far today.

"Uhhhh…" Linden hesitates and tries to remember.

"Wrong answer. We need to make a stop. Because I know if I'm hungry, and I actually eat, then you definitely need to eat," Holder announced. "You going to let me drive, or are you going to be able to drive to a restaurant and stop the car? I don't know if you know what they look like…"

"Ha ha, very funny," Linden says, making a face at him. Then she does something completely unexpected: she tosses him the keys. Since they're already in the car, there's not much space between them, so he has to react very quickly to keep from being hit in the face with them. He's so surprised, they almost _do_ hit him in the face.

"Wait…" Holder begins, still in shock. "You're voluntarily giving me the car keys? You sick or something? You feeling OK? You're not coming down with something, are you?" Holder seriously can't come up with a reason why Linden just turned over the keys without a fight. It had never happened before. And all just because he asked her? He didn't have to beg or something?

"No," Linden makes a face at him and answers simply. "You're right, we should eat. I'm actually kinda hungry. And since I don't care what kind of food we get, it makes sense if you drive." Linden concludes her explanation, and Holder just stares at her. Finally, slowly, they get out of the car and switch sides. Holder still looks confused, like he's not sure who it is he's in the car with, and Linden is pretty amused by his confusion.

"Yo, what's so funny, anyway?" Holder asks her. She's been watching him and looking like she's going to burst out laughing for several minutes now. It's just weird. He used to have to try pretty hard to get her to smile at all!

"_You_ are! Is it_ that_ big a deal that I gave you the keys? Cause you're looking at me like I have three heads or something," she tells him.

"You're just full of surprises is all, Linden," Holder tells her, shaking his head.

"What can I say? Maybe you're rubbing off on me! Now are we going to get something to eat or do I need to take those keys back and drive there myself?"

"Alright, Linden, we're going, don't get all riled up," he replies as he starts the car.


	17. I Got This

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 1, episode 13

**Author's Note: **Thank you all so much for reading this story so far, and special thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave me a review! Of course, I'm writing this story because I enjoy it and I love the show, but there's something about knowing that other people enjoy it too that really makes me happy! This is the last chapter corresponding with season 1 (as you may have guessed from the "spoiler" line at the top), but don't worry, there's no break between seasons. I'll be diving right into season 2 as soon as this chapter is posted. As you can see, this story's not ending any time soon…

DAY 13

Linden and Holder are in the car, parked at yet _another_ gas station where they failed to find any trace of Rosie Larsen or the black campaign car she had been found in. They're getting frustrated.

Holder gives his theory about why they're not finding anything on that part of the route – "No one fills up a tank til it's empty, right?" He continues his explanation. Meanwhile, Linden is grinning at him.

"What's so funny?" Holder can't imagine why Linden has that smile on her face. It's not as though she smiles that often, and now she's grinning for what seems like no reason – for the second day in a row!

"You trying to do math is kind of like a dog wearing a hat," she explains.

"Yeah, whatever. _LISTEN!_ So he's got enough gas to go from the campaign parking lot, to the casino, and over the bridge. That's a total of 110 miles, give or take. Meaning, he would have been driving on fumes south of the bridge. _That's_ when he filled up the tank. Not before."

"And how does this help us?" Linden is still skeptical of how Holder's calculations make any difference.

"There's a gas station on Lowell Street. It's about 5 miles from Discovery Park. It would have been right in his path."

"Lowell Street's not on the list." It's taking Linden a while to warm up to Holder's theory.

"Yo, trust me, Linden. I _got_ this."

_Holder _

I _think_ she's buying my theory. Even if she's not buying it, as long as she's willing to go along with it long enough to check it out, that's ok with me. She's making fun of my math skills, but whatever. I can take it as well as I can dish it out. I guess it's my turn to be on the receiving end for a change.

I **know** I'm right about this… it just makes sense. This could be the break in the case that we've been looking for.

_Linden_

I guess that after everything that's happened in the past two weeks, it's my turn to give Holder the benefit of the doubt. Besides, what's the harm in checking out that gas station on Lowell Street? I think I've second guessed him enough… and we seem to be striking out so far anyway. God knows I don't want to check any more of these nasty gas stations toilets than I have to.

…

Holder stands by the window that looks into the room where Richmond is being processed. Linden comes around the corner and sees him standing there. She walks slowly over to stand beside him.

"After all that…" she says, watching the exchange between Richmond and the officer behind the glass.

"Yeah…" Holder turns to face her. "So, what's next, Linden? You finally heading for So-_no_-ma?"

She turns towards him and leans the side of her head against the glass. "Yep. We leave tonight. I think I'm going to sleep for the next week, and then we'll see what happens."

"Well, you've certainly earned it. I mean, you've also been rewarded with the delightful opportunity to work with me, of course, which is a bonus…" They both smile at Holder's bravado. "…but you really put yourself through a lot when you're working a case, don't you?"

Linden's head bobs slightly in agreement.

"You always do that, or did you just do it this time because you wanted an excuse to spend more time with me?" _Holder is such a little kid, Linden thinks to herself._

She looks back at Richmond on the other side of the glass. "I guess I do that with the cases I care most about."

Holder glances at Richmond, but then looks back at her. "Well, I for one am very impressed with your _insane_ work ethic. It's completely unhealthy, and definitely makes you a workaholic. Seriously, you make me look like a slacker, which I'm _not_, no matter what _you_ may think, so it's probably best that you move on out of here." Classic Holder, grin on his face, giving her a hard time once more for "old time's" sake… if it can be old time's sake after 13 days. Somehow it feels like they've known each other for years already.

"Yeah, sorry I've been cramping your style around here," Linden replies. They could probably go on like this all day.

"It ain't no thing, Linden. It's all good."

They both smile, then turn back to look at Richmond. It's been a crazy two weeks. They stand that way for a while, both lost in thought.

…

Without looking away from the scene still unfolding in front of them, with Richmond now being fingerprinted, Linden says, "I'm thinking you can handle the paperwork."

Holder turns his head slowly towards her, a smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, so _now_ I'm OK to work alone." He almost laughs at the Linden's not-quite-a-compliment.

Linden smiles at him. "You're a pretty good cop, Holder. You're gonna make a passable detective." Holder chuckles as he repeats the word "passable" under his breath.

Linden continues, "You want a tip? That mouth of yours? You don't have to say _every_ thoughtthat runs through your head." She isn't trying to be malicious - she says it with a smile. Yet again, Holder laughs.

"Yeah, well guess what I'm not saying now," he tells her. He pauses, then says, "Get outta here."

Linden smiles, and without a word she walks down the hall and around the corner. Holder watches her leave for the last time.

_Holder_

I guess she's not wrong about my mouth… she's not the first person to ever say that to me. Maybe one of these days I'll even take her advice into account… Maybe.

So she's actually leaving… I guess it's good that I didn't put money on that happening after all. It's gonna be weird around here without her, that's for sure.

Maybe I should've told her… No, it's all for the best.

Bye, Linden… it was nice working with you, after all.

_Linden_

Hopefully Holder can keep himself out of trouble, because I think he may do OK in this job. He's not what you'd expect a detective to be, but I guess sometimes that's a good thing. He definitely has his own way of doing things. I'll almost miss his stupid jokes…

Almost.

And now, to get out of Seattle, on to a fresh start.

_**End of season 1**_


	18. I Hope It Was Worth It

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 1

DAY 14

Linden had left Seattle. Or at least, she'd gotten as far as the airport. Whether she had changed her mind about Rick or Rick had changed his mind about her, in the end, it didn't really matter. She told Jack that this time they were staying in Seattle for good.

Of course, with Richmond having been shot, Linden had put herself back on the case. At this point it didn't matter what Oakes said, she had to see it through to the end. This meant that once again, she had to find somewhere to leave Jack while she was working. Today it had seemed like a good solution to leave him with his friend Nick at his church. Apparently Jack hadn't been happy with it, however, because now he's with Holder at the station.

Linden storms into the police station and heads straight to the office she had shared with Holder. Jack had called to tell her that he was there, and not with the "the Jesus Freaks," as he had called them.

Linden walks into the office to find Holder at his desk and Jack in the chair next to him. They seem to be having a great time. They'd always gotten along before, so it didn't surprise her.

"Hey mom," Jack says casually when she walks in.

"Oh snap! What's up Linden?" Holder's talking a little faster than usual, and his voice is a little higher and more cartoonish than normal.

"Hey." Linden wasn't in the mood for pleasantries, or for Holder's silliness.

Holder, on the other hand, found the situation very amusing. "Busted! You're like that monster in Friday the 13th. Only way to kill you is to chop off your head." Linden was giving him the death glare. "I was only kidding! You know you're my BFF."

"We gotta go, Jack," Linden told him.

"I'm not hanging out with those Jesus freaks."

"You know anything about the man? I mean JC did all kind of righteous shit," Holder interjected.

Linden just wanted to get Jack and get out of the station. "Get your stuff, come on."

"I gotta go to the bathroom," Jack protested.

"I'll go with you."

"God, mom, freakin…"

"You wanna wipe his booboo too?" Holder decides to stop teasing Linden and be serious for a minute. "Hey, yeah, I called you about Richmond."

"Yeah, I was busy getting us another flight. We missed ours last night." Linden said. "You wrapping up?"

"Yo, you left a _mess,_" Holder tells her.

Linden looks at him intently. "Looks like we both did."

"What Belko did ain't on us," Holder assures her. He assumes that's what she's talking about.

"That's one way of looking at it."

Seeing that he's getting nowhere fast, Holder tries another topic. "So, why're you back? For real."

That's the moment Jack comes back from the bathroom. "Come on, let's go," she tells him, and with that she's saved from a conversation that she _really _doesn't want to be having.

After thinking she knew Holder pretty well over the past few weeks, she is now furious with him for that forged picture of Richmond on the bridge. She'd be quite happy to never speak to him again. Except that she's also like to give him hell for it at the same time.

Jack and Holder do their special handshake and hug.

"You take care, OK?" Holder says. He has always liked Jack.

"Later," Jack tells him.

"Later, man," he says to Jack, who walks out into the hall.

Holder turns to Linden. "Bet you're gonna get that same psycho stewardess you yelled at so you could get off that plane." Clearly Jack has filled him in on the events of last night. She cringes inwardly. Holder seems to have a way of seeing right into her, past her defenses, even when he doesn't have Jack as an informant. She absolutely _hates_ that.

"Yeah, and good luck cleaning up the mess, I hope it was worth it," Linden replies, her tone calm but venomous.

They stare at each other for another minute, Holder looking slightly perplexed. Hadn't they left things on better terms than this yesterday? Linden walks out, leaving Holder sitting alone in the office to wonder.

_Holder_

Man, I knew that Linden wasn't gonna be happy to find Jack not in the place where she left him, but he clearly hadn't wanted to be there… I had to cut the kid a break. There's gotta be something else, though, some other reason why she seems extra pissed. I mean, we were on good terms yesterday… there has to be a reason she's super pissed at me today. Seriously, what did I do this time? I really can't do anything right around her, even when I think she's finally done giving me a hard time.

Whatever. I guess either she'll tell me when she decides she's ready to, or pissed enough, or she won't.

_Linden_

I'm so angry with Holder, I don't even know where to start. I would have loved to call him on the whole picture thing today, but not with Jack there, so it wasn't the right time. Jack's not part of this whole thing, or _any_ problems between Holder and me, it wouldn't be fair to him. He looks up to Holder, God help us.

I wonder how long I can work the case without having to talk to Holder. I'm willing to hold out as long as possible. I certainly don't need to constantly wonder if my partner is telling me the truth. Carlson says Holder's on the case with me, so I guess at some point he'll force us to talk, but I'm in no rush.

I really didn't think Holder was the kind of cop who took shortcuts, who would fabricate evidence… but it's not the first time I'm completely wrong about someone. And to think, I had started trusting him… I should've known better than that, I guess.

…

As Linden and Jack walked out, Holder tried to figure out what had her so pissed off. Granted, it wasn't like she'd never showed up suddenly pissed off at him before, but usually – _usually _– it turned out later that she had had a reason. Maybe not one that made complete sense, but a reason nonetheless.

So what was it this time? He got out of this chair and walked slowly into the hallway. As he rounded the first corner, he saw her at the end of the long hallway with Jack, rounding the next corner. He continued down the hall, slowly, but still as if he had a reason to be there.

When he reached the exit, he walked along the side of the building to his usual spot, took out a cigarette and lit it. As he did this, he looked casually around for her car. He saw it at the far end of the parking lot, and noticed the two of them in the car having what didn't really look like a friendly conversation. Of course, knowing both of them, this wasn't exactly a surprise. There were so many things between them, and Jack was, after all, a teenager. Neither of them were easy to deal with, and they only had each other. Holder liked them both, but he knew it was hard for them.

Holder tried to watch carefully for something that would give him an idea of why Linden had seemed so angry with him. He was fairly sure there was more to it than just the fact that Jack had left the church group and ended up hanging out with him. Jack seemed to be in his regular teenaged boy mood, the same attitude he'd taken with Linden when she'd shown up to get him a little while ago. Linden, on the other hand, seemed extra agitated, just as she had in the office. Unfortunately, that was all he could tell from that distance.

He finished his cigarette and went back inside, resigning himself to the fact that this time he was just going to have to wait for the other shoe to drop. Hopefully, she'd tell him eventually.


	19. Open the Door!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 2

DAY 15

Sarah and Jack enter their hotel room with a few miscellaneous boxes and bags of their things. Not because they are planning to stay at that hotel long, but, as she has explained to Jack, they can't leave anything important in the car without risking someone stealing it.

Within a minute of the door closing behind them, Holder is standing on the other side of the door, knocking urgently. If they'd walked a little more slowly, he would have caught up to them in the hallway.

"Linden…" Holder is almost banging on the door. Loudly. Without a word, she puts her finger to her lips to signal Jack not to make a sound.

"Open the door, Linden. I know you're in there, I need to talk to you." Holder sounds frantic. Linden remains silent behind the door.

Linden is still angry with him for both the forged photo of Richmond on Desolation Bridge and for "liberating" Jack from the church where she had dropped him off, so she doesn't move to open the door for him. It's fair to say that she'd be perfectly happy to have nothing to do with him.

She silently directs Jack with her arm, pushing him towards the bathroom as she slips the chain lock into its slot on the inside of the door.

The banging continues. "Open the door! I know you're in there, I saw your car parked outside." More banging. "Open the door!" he yells.

Holder isn't giving up. He just keeps on banging on the door. "Open the door, Linden, I gotta talk to you. I can explain…" She steps back against the wall perpendicular to the door, her mouth set in a hard line, waiting to see what happens next. Her face reveals the conflict she feels inside, but her anger and determination win out and she stays put.

He bangs again. The banging is getting harder and harder, more insistent. Linden is not entirely sure that Holder will give up his banging before the door gives out.

"Linden, just… open this… OPEN THE DOOR, LINDEN!" Holder's yelling at the top of his lungs now. Even his head hits the door this time.

And then suddenly, finally defeated, Holder sits down on the floor facing Linden's door with his back to the wall. He stays there for a few minutes, fingering the new detective badge that Gil had recently presented to him. Linden is standing on the other side of the door, ear pressed up against it hear what he would do next. As he plays with his badge, he lets it fall from his hands and onto the floor.

He gets up slowly, leaving the badge on the floor. Linden hasn't moved, ear still pressed to the inside of the door, listening for the retreating footsteps.

Holder walks away, down the hall and out of the hotel.

_Holder_

_Fuck._ What the hell have I done? I _didn't_ do it… but she thinks I did. She thinks I faked the picture. And of course she does, I would probably think so too if I was her. I have to get her to believe me, that it wasn't something _I_ did… except I can't even get her to talk to me. And if Linden don't believe me, well, ain't no one else gonna believe me neither.

I still can't believe it… Gil. Gil, who I thought was supporting me… my boss, my sponsor, my _friend_. And all along, nope, he thought I was a low life tweaker just like everyone else – and a dirty one at that. How could I have been so _stupid_ to believe that any of it could change?

There's no way to fix this, really… why have I bothered working so hard to get clean? It was all a joke, all for nothing. Redemption? It's bullshit. All they're gonna see is my mistakes.

_Linden_

Whatever it is that he wants to say, it's easier if I don't have to hear it. Easier to be here behind the closed door. As angry as I am with him, I'm angrier with myself for trusting him. Trusting people always seems to bite me in the ass. I tell myself that this person won't be the same as the last one, and the rest of them. No, this one will be different… but they never are. Eventually, everyone either leaves, screws me over or both.

I don't know why I bother. I don't need anyone anyway. I'm so much better off on my own.

…

When she was sure that Holder had gone, Linden finally let out a sigh of relief, and allowed herself to leave her post by the door. Jack, meanwhile, had come out of the bathroom and was watching her, understandably baffled - to put it mildly.

"Mom, _what_ was that about?" he asked, his face about as confused as Linden as ever seen it.

Linden struggled to find the words to explain what just happened. She sighed heavily as she walked towards the window. "It's hard to explain, Jack," was all she could think of.

"But he really wanted to talk to you, mom. Why didn't you just talk to him?"

"I will, but I'm not ready yet." She stood by the window, looking down at the street. Looking to see if she could see Holder's car, to see it leaving.

"But why not?"

"Not that I have to explain myself to you, my darling son, but it's because Holder did something – I'm pretty sure he did it, anyway – and I'm really angry with him for it."

"So you're not talking to him because you're mad at him… mom, isn't that kinda immature? Isn't that the kinda thing kids do? Not adults?" Jack asked bluntly.

Linden sighed, not taking her eyes off of the view out the window, and not answering Jack's question.

Her first thought was _Oh, you'd be surprised how childish adults can be, kid. _But at the same time, she had to concede that he might have a point. _Dammit, I hate when he's right_, she thought with annoyance_._

"So are you gonna talk to him when you're done being mad? Or what?" Jack wanted to know.

Linden sighed yet again. "I don't know, Jack. I need to think about it. It was a pretty serious thing that he did."

"But are you sure he did it, mom? Because Holder's a good guy. You _know_ that, right? Are you sure it's something he did, and not just a coincidence?"

"I guess I need to do some detective work, don't I?" Linden conceded. Jack nodded.

"Just make sure you're not mad at him for no reason, OK mom? He's a cool guy. It'd be nice if he'd stick around."

"Yeah, OK," Linden said as she looked out the window and finally saw what she had been looking for – Holder's car, driving away from the building. She sighed to herself. Jack was like her conscious, her voice of reason. The one that she hated to listen to, though she knew she should.

But not yet.


	20. Get Out of There

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episodes 3 and 4

DAY 16

Sarah and Jack are in their hotel room, where Sarah is allegedly "cooking" dinner. Ray calls on her cell phone, and they talk about the case. She goes online to download the files that Ray has sent her and Jack takes over the cooking. While they're on the phone, Linden gets a call on the other line from a woman she doesn't know.

"You gotta come get him."

"Who is this?" Her name is Clare, but she doesn't tell Linden that. She focuses on the reason for her call.

"Stephen. I got your number from his phone. Look, I don't really know him, but he's acting crazy."

Now she has Linden's attention. What has Holder done now? "Where are you?"

Linden gets to Biltmore Pier as fast as she can, where she finds Holder pacing on the median in the middle of traffic.

"What the hell are you doing?" Linden yells to him from the sidewalk.

He glances up then, and looks at her with a pained expression. However, he doesn't try to respond to her over the noise of the traffic rushing in both directions. She can tell that something is very wrong. He doesn't look like the same guy she's been working with for the past few weeks.

She tries to connect with him by using what she knows. "I know you switched the backpack. I know what you did, Holder." _Come back here and talk to me, Holder. I'm pissed at you, but I don't want you to get run over._

They look at each other some more. Holder's eyes are glassy, and it's not clear whether he's going to come back to her side of the road or not. He looks like he could go either way, either into traffic, or back to where she's standing.

"Come on, get out of there! Before I leave you here!" Linden wouldn't really do that, but she needs to get Holder to focus on getting away from the median of the bridge and the danger of oncoming cars on both sides.

Holder takes a few deep breaths, then crosses the traffic to the sidewalk on Linden's side of the bridge. He walks past her without a word, and she follows him.

Today, it's Linden's turn to be the strong one.

_Holder _

Those lights. Coming at me every which way. Why did I go out there in the first place? Did I really think it would be better if something happened to me? No, of course not. That's not me.

I can't explain it, really, other than, it just seemed like everything was falling apart. I just couldn't figure out what to do. I can't explain how going up on that bridge seemed like the best option, though. Was it a cry for help? Maybe. Was it smart? Definitely not. Was it the dumbest thing I've _ever_ done? Not even close.

I don't even really remember going out there, only that once I was there, I couldn't tear myself away from those lights. It was mesmerizing. I was in such a haze to start with, and the lights were all I could focus on. If it hadn't been for Linden, who knows what would've happened? Somehow, as hypnotized as I was by the lights, I saw her clearly. I guess it was like the same idea as how a lighthouse points ships towards safety, except that ironically she was the only thing out there that _wasn't _lit up. But it didn't matter. She was there.

I know she's pissed at me. Who wouldn't be? Hell, I'm pissed at myself. It's all one giant mess. Some of it's my fault, some of it's Gil, some of it was someone else in the department, or City Hall, or God knows who… I'm convinced that this goes higher up than just Gil. There has to be a way to fix it though. Linden and me, we _gotta_ be able to fix it.

_Linden_

Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in Holder's head. Seriously, some of his ideas make a lot of sense, and then BAM! He comes up with crap that's just so unprofessional – sometimes just plain _illegal_ – and it makes me wonder what exactly he thinks he's doing. There are certain things you just don't _do_.

As soon as that last thought formed in my head – that there are some things you just don't do – the little voice in my head shrieked at me, _Oh really, Sarah? Are there things __**you**__ wouldn't do to solve a case?_ Alright, conscience, you've got me there. Who am I to judge someone else about their methods? That's pretty fucked up, because I'm the first one to break the rules when need be. But the shit-storm Holder caused by the way he broke the rules this time… we're all paying for it, not just him. I guess that's why I'm so pissed – because I have to help clean up his mess. I don't even clean up my own messes especially well – though I'm especially talented at _making _them – and I certainly don't want to clean up someone else's.

…

DAY 17

Linden and Holder were on their way to the FBI building in Seattle to meet with a mob expert that Linden knew. She parked in the visitor parking area and took the keys slowly out of the ignition. Holder watched her, noticing that she appeared to be lost in thought. Her focus looked like it was on something on the dashboard, but at the same time, it wasn't.

"You OK, Linden?" Holder asked. The question seemed to bring her out of her haze, and back to reality. The scowl returned to her face – the one that she seemed to have reserved just for him in the past few days – and she turned slowly to face him. He'd seen that scowl directed at other people many times, but boy oh boy, he was almost afraid when that look was directed at him. Like a guilty man in an interrogation room, he immediately felt the need to confess – whether or not he'd actually done anything wrong. Anything to make her stop looking at him like that.

"Linden, I… I swear, uh… that picture. I, uh, I know you think it was me… Linden, I _swear_, I really thought… I mean, I had no reason to think that Gil would…" Suddenly he couldn't form a complete sentence. She continued to look at him, without blinking or changing her expression whatsoever. As if she were looking right through him. It was eerie.

Holder decided he needed to look away from Linden's death stare in order to get his words out coherently. He turned and stared straight ahead out the front windshield. Linden continued to watch him silently.

Holder took a deep breath and continued. "Linden, I'm _sorry_. Maybe you know this and maybe you don't, but I would _not _have knowingly turned in a faked piece of evidence! I know it seems easy for me to blame Gil, but I had _no reason_ not to trust him." His voice cracked just a little with emotion at the last part. He turned back to look at Linden. There was nothing else he could say. If she was still mad, she was still mad.

"OK," said Linden. That was it, just one word. The scary look she'd been giving Holder for days seemed to have disappeared in the blink of an eye. They stared at each other for a minute, neither one sure quite sure what to say next. "Come on," she finally said, "We've got work to do." She pulled on the door handle and was out of the door before Holder could respond. He shook his head and smiled slightly to himself. _No time to waste, as usual_, thought Holder, pushing open his own car door.


	21. 1-900-LINDEN

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 4

DAY 17

Linden and Holder are in the car, waiting to tail Alexi when he comes out of Yannic's restaurant. They've been there waiting for a while.

Holder, being Holder, decides it's time to make more interesting conversation. And besides, he likes giving Linden a hard time. "So what's up with you and that fed? You and that Tom Waits wannabe ever hook up, or what?" Linden just stares into the distance, not acknowledging the questions.

"Oh, snap! Linden rocked the booty call." Linden smiles slightly and glances over her shoulder at him. "Dial 1-900-LINDEN" Holder says in a sing-songy voice.

"That's not even enough numbers." She wants to be annoyed, but she has to admit, he's the tiniest bit funny. She can't help but smile a little.

"Pretty slick Linden, that candy bar move in juvie."

"They trade them in there. It's like money."

"It did seem familiar," Holder replies.

"It was my first job I worked out of the academy," Linden volunteers.

"That right?"

"Yeah."

Holder decides to press her about her past, just a little bit. Sometimes he gets away with it, sometimes not so much, but he's a risk taker. "I thought you said you were running back in the day, when you were in that foster home."

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah you did. You said you bolted every six months." Linden just stares straight ahead, looking like she's kicking herself mentally for ever telling him that. Holder bravely – stupidly? – ignores the red flags that he should maybe have seen then. "It makes sense. You know, with Sonoma and everything."

Linden gives him an icy look. Though, of course, he hadn't mean anything critical by it, he has just crossed the line. He attempts to defend himself. "I'm just making conversation since we're wasting our time here anyway."

But it's too late. It's like something has just snapped in her, and her tolerance for his banter has just evaporated. "You're right, this is a waste of time. _Get out_." Linden starts the car and puts on her seatbelt.

"Come on, Linden... For real?" Holder stares at her, shocked, for a minute before he finally gets out.

"What am I supposed to do our here?" he asks her through the open window.

"Your job. Call in for a car and keep your eyes open for Alexi." With that, Linden drives away.

"Alright… I guess we're back to normal." Holder shakes his head. Just when he thinks he may have Linden figured out, she's still full of surprises.

_Holder_

Well, damn, that sure didn't go the way I thought it would. It was like one second we were having a nice little chat, and the next second she was kicking me out of the car. I guess I should've known better than to bring up Sonoma. She was only pleasantly annoyed with me before that… she would've claimed to have been annoyed, she could easily have told me to shut up… and yet, she smirked and played along. She would never admit it, but she likes the attention, I'm convinced. I'm just a charming guy.

But I admit it, sometimes I forget that there's a line with her, and that when I step over it I'm immediately shut out. I know that it's not that she doesn't trust me, or more specifically that she doesn't trust me _in particular_. She doesn't trust _anyone_ past a certain point. She doesn't want to open up more than she has to, ever. I'm assuming that it's a product of growing up in foster care. Seems like that would've been hard.

I guess I need to work on not sticking my foot in my mouth around her. It seems to happen more around her than anyone else, somehow.

_Linden_

Most of the time, Holder is just harmlessly annoying. This time, however, he was over the line. You'd think he'd have figured out by now where the line is. _Rick is none of his business._ I guess I never told Holder that Jack and I are back here for good, of course, but still… He knows that things between Rick and I have been completely messed up, and it's _really_ not his place to rub it in my face, kidding or not.

He may not do it deliberately – say things that get to me in such a personal way, and make me react without even thinking – but somehow I can't help but snap when he does. And push him away. I've worked so hard to never let anyone in… how does he do it, see through me, despite my best effort to stop him?

It's kinda scary when he sees through me to the truth. No, scratch that. It's terrifying. How am I supposed to protect myself when he can see right through me?

…

When Linden thought about it later, she knew that she shouldn't have kicked Holder out of the car. Sure, he could call the station and get a car brought to him, but still. It was the principle. He had said something she didn't like, yes. It had over the line – without question. He really should have learned to read her better by now, and have a better idea which topics were off limits – or at least **she** thought so. Holder wasn't one for subtlety – using it or picking up on it. After she had calmed down – which wasn't until she had long since left him behind on the side of the road – she did feel bad about her reaction. They'd developed a good working relationship for the most part. She knew that she tended to lash out when she felt threatened. She just never seemed to be able to stop herself.

In any case, they were due to meet up again in a few hours to go over what they had so far on Alexi. Linden generally kept up her stony exterior with everyone, even Holder for the most part, but she decided that in this case a peace offering was in order. She stopped on her way to the station and picked up a coffee and a maple bacon doughnut for Holder, as well as a coffee and a more normal flavored doughnut for herself. She left his on his desk when she got to the office, and then got to work reviewing what they'd learned so far. By the time Holder arrived 20 minutes later, Linden had forgotten that she'd even left him anything.

Holder stopped in the doorway and looked from his desk, to Linden and back again. He smiled ever so slightly – that charming smile that always seemed to get him out of trouble. "Oh, snap, Linden. How'd you know I was hungry?"

"What?" Linden looked up from the files strewn across her desk, momentarily confused. Her eyes rested on the items she'd left on his desk and she realized what he was talking about. "Oh, that? Well, to be fair, you're ALWAYS hungry…" she began. Holder nodded slightly. He couldn't argue with that. "And, you know, I…. uh…" Linden faltered. She was good at knee jerk reactions. She was _not _good at apologizing for them. "I shouldn't have kicked you out of the car. Sorry." She turned back to the files in front of her before the last word was even out of her mouth. It had come out as barely a whisper.

Holder set him jacket on the chair beside his desk and sat down across from Linden. "It's all good, Linden. You're a little abusive, but you're still my BFF."

She glanced up, surprised to have heard him call her _abusive _– wasn't that a little harsh? – to see him grinning at her. _Ohhhh, he's joking. _The corners of her mouth turned up the tiniest bit and she said "Can we talk about work now?" Still, Holder considered it a victory. Cracking Linden's tough shell was one challenge that kept him guessing all the time.

"That's what we're here for, ain't it?" he replied without hesitation.


	22. I Never Do

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 5

DAY 18

Linden and Holder are in the car, as usual. Linden is on the phone with Jack, who had a fever earlier. She's speaking calmly and evenly, but Holder recognizes the concern in her voice.

"You don't have a fever anymore? Good, that's great. I'll be home soon. Just as soon as I can. OK." She closes the phone and puts it away.

She's rummaging around in the car for something. "You wanna smoke?" Holder offers.

Linden shakes her head, muttering "Mmmm-mmmm."

"You sure you don't want a cigarette?"

"Holder…" she says, her tone a warning to him.

"It's just a matter of time, til you're back in the fold." He's watching her intently, noticing that she's not quite herself. "You know Linden, you should live a little."

"Smoking isn't how I define living."

"Alright, just don't go all falling down on me because you can't get your fix." He pauses. "So how's Little Man?"

"He's better. He's probably just trying to dodge school. He has an algebra quiz tomorrow."

"You should tell him to call me, because I _aced_ Algebra last time."

Linden nods and smiles, distracted, but her eyes don't meet his. She's so distracted that she doesn't notice that Holder is still watching her. He can tell that she's preoccupied, no doubt thinking about Jack.

"Alright," he begins, opening the passenger side door.

Linden looks up then, surprised and confused. "What are you doing?" _After being kicked out of the car a few days ago, he's really getting out on his own? Why? I'm not even mad at him!_

"I'm gonna call the station, have a uni send over a car. You go check up on Jack. I got this. I'll make sure Alexi doesn't leave town." He's looking at her reassuringly – seriously – which she isn't accustomed to.

Holder gets out, then leans back in through the open door. She's still looking at him with stunned confusion. "Don't worry about me!" he tells her.

"I never do," she smiles at him. "Thank you." As usual, very few words are passed between them, and yet they seem to understand each other perfectly.

_Holder_

It's rare to see Linden not firing on all cylinders, not working at full capacity. She's so rarely distracted that it's more obvious tonight than I think she realizes. She was so out of it in that car. All I had to do was look at her to see it. It was obvious she was worried about Jack, even though she wouldn't admit it, to me or even to herself. I could tell that she didn't want to let that stop her from keeping tabs on Alexi.

Poor Linden. She's so dedicated to her job, and it can't be easy for her to let something else come first. It's not that she doesn't love Jack – I know that she does. She just cares so much about the cases she takes… She's a single-minded kinda person, which makes it hard for her to pick one or the other.

I just wanted to make it easier for her tonight, send her home for once. Home to her kid, who should be the first priority, but who isn't most of the time. Poor Little Man. But I certainly can't point fingers at no one. Linden's doing her best with a situation that sucks. I feel for them both… I really do. All I can do is try to be there to help when I can.

_Linden_

Jack's OK. He's strong, always has been. He's been sick today, but we've been through worse before. We both have. We fight on, because… well, what choice have we ever had? Sometimes I feel like I'm walking on a tight rope, about to fall – no, plunge – to the ground below, no matter what I do. But life doesn't let you choose your circumstances, so this is just how it is.

I can't get this case out of my head. I remember back when I thought I could walk away, back at the beginning. What a joke. I don't know who I thought I was fooling. I could no more walk away from a case than I could walk away from my own feet.

I just need to get Alexi to talk. He's the key here, he has to be, and he knows more than he's saying. I just need to figure out what Rosie was hiding from her parents.

I just need to find out the truth.

I just really need to solve this case. Then life can go back to normal… or, it can be normal for the first time, really. Normal… whatever that means.

…

Holder had shown up at Linden's door just after she'd been in the hall investigating a strange noise. She'd almost jumped out of her skin when Holder had knocked on the door as she stood just on the other side, still nervous about whatever she'd heard a moment before. When Holder told her that he had Alexi in his car, and that he wanted to talk to them, she grabbed her jacket and they left without delay.

As they set off down the hall, Holder couldn't help but think that Linden looked like she'd seen a ghost. He slowed his pace beside her, causing her to glance back at him, slowing down in turn to look at him. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

Holder continued to look at her with concern. "Linden, you look like you seen a ghost. You OK?" She glanced at the ground, then, when she could feel him still looking at her and realized that he was waiting for her to answer, she slowly looked back up at him.

"It's nothing," she mumbled unconvincingly, knowing that there was no way Holder was going to buy it for a second. After all, he was a cop, trained to read people. She sighed heavily, realizing that he was still watching her and waiting patiently. "I just… I thought I heard something in the hallway, so I went to look… but there was no one there… and then I was still standing right by the door when you knocked… I guess I was just… startled."

Holder could almost see the tension radiating off of her in waves. He decided to try to lighten the mood. "Sounds like you needed to get out of there anyway. Good thing I came by, huh?" Holder grinned at her, that dumb grin he always used when he said something so stupid it was almost funny.

She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, so even though she really didn't, she looked at him and flashed the smallest hint of a smile. He could see that she was faking it, but he appreciated the effort.

"Let's go see what Alexi wants to talk about," Linden said, steering the conversation back to business.

"Right, let's hit it," Holder agreed as the pair started down the hallway again.


	23. Just For A Night

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episodes 6 and 7

**Author's Note: **I know the last few chapters have taken a while, but I've been busy lately - I haven't given up on this story! I'm not sure how this chapter got so long. I couldn't decide if the end was too cheesy, but I felt like a little bit of cute was in order. Please review and let me know what you think!

DAY 19

Sarah Linden is so proud of Jack's quiz grade, she tells him that she's putting it on the refrigerator. That's when she sees it there, staring at her. The sketch of the trees that Adrian had done during the Seward murder case _is on the refrigerator_. She had definitely not put it there. She would _never_ have put it there. Jack hadn't put it there either. It had been packed away.

Linden panics. In a flash, she has Jack out the door. They head for the safest place she can think of. The _only_ safe place she can think of.

In his apartment, Holder's phone rings. " 'S Holder."

"Hey, it's me," says Linden, who is standing with Jack only a few feet away from Holder, in the hallway outside of the door to his apartment. "Are you home?"

"Yeah, why, what's up?"

In answer to Holder's question, Linden knocks on the door. Holder opens it to find the two of them standing in front of him. _This must be big_, he thinks to himself.

"Hey," says Linden.

"Hey," replies Holder. She feels flustered, showing up in the middle of the night, and he's quite curious about what's going on, yet they're both acting like this happens all the time, as if everything is normal. In a weird way, it almost _feels_ normal.

"We need to stay here, just for a night." It's a statement, not a question, Holder can't help but notice. But then, Linden's never been overly concerned with politeness; most of the time she's blunt to a fault. But Holder doesn't mind. He's any easy going guy, and there isn't much he wouldn't do to help his partner. He knows that she would never put herself in this situation – or in _any_ situation that requires her to ask for help – if she had any choice whatsoever.

"Yeah, sure, come in."

After changing her clothes, Linden comes back down the hall to find Holder and Jack on the floor wrestling. _Boys_, she thinks to herself with a smile. At least _they_ can enjoy themselves.

Meanwhile, the head of Security from the Wapi Eagle casino is just outside, watching from her car parked along the street below, as the scene unfolds before her through the brightly lit windows of Holder's apartment. Linden has been told that she is paranoid in the past, however, in this instance her concern is justified. Of course, she doesn't know this. She just has the sensation of being watched.

Holder and Jack have moved on to Monopoly, but Linden doesn't join them. Instead, she keeps watch at the window, staring into the dark and going over what she knows for sure along with what her intuition is telling her, trying to reconcile the two. Trying to work it all out.

Holder momentarily leaves Jack sitting by the board to ponder his next move. He approaches Linden by the window, watching her and sensing her worry. "Maid probably just moved it. Always be putting my Gideon's in the drawer. Makes me lose my place in Exodus."

"The drawing was packed away. This was a message. Whoever did this knows things about me." Inside, Linden shivers at the thought. As someone who tries desperately to hide anything about her that would make her vulnerable, just the possibility that someone knows that much about her is terrifying.

"That old case you were working on? Is that what Carlson was talking about?" Linden doesn't answer, but Holder can sense that he's right. With Linden, he's usually right. He has never seen her so scared, and he wishes there was something he could do. "Hey, trust me on this Linden, you're safe. No one ever comes around here, not even Jehovah's Witnesses."

Then, in a louder voice, as he turns and walks back towards Jack and the Monopoly game, he says, "Only thing we gotta worry about is the youngin robbing us." He looks at Jack. "I said roll for me, not rob me!"

"You owe me rent," Jack replies simply.

"Rent on Pinewood Square ain't two Gs," Holder counters, snatching some Monopoly money back from him.

"I think the zen rock garden and fountain are what's really gonna help me relax," Linden tells him sarcastically from across the room.

"Laugh it up, Linden, my dojo is the sanctuary of light."

Linden smiles as she watches them play, but the smile doesn't last. She continues to look worriedly out the window. She knows that she isn't _safe_, but at that moment she is thankful that at least she isn't _alone_.

_Holder_

I can't believe that Linden showed up at my door. Linden, Miss I-Don't-Need-Anyone, I'm-Not-Afraid-of-Anything. She's one of the toughest cops I know, and it takes _a lot_ to rattle her. No, let me rephrase that. It takes a lot _for her to admit to another human being_ that something rattled her. This Seward trial picture thing… whatever it means, it was no joke to her. I mean, damn, if I could bottle the nervous energy coming off of her, I could run the lights in this place for a week.

At the same time, much as I hate to see Linden like this, it's kinda flattering to be the person that she came to for help. I know that it's cause she had no other choice – I've seen how it kills her to ask people for things, and really, I can't think of anyone else she would've asked – but even so, I know that if she didn't trust me, she wouldn't be here. She would've figured something else out. Most likely kept it all bottled up, which ain't healthy at all. Bad for the chi.

Funny how people always see me as the _good for nothing tweakhead,_ but for some reason, not Linden. Just like nobody else seems to see past her prickly exterior – except me.

_Linden_

I would've given anything to have been able to solve this thing myself. Anything. There's pretty much nothing I hate more than asking for help, depending on anyone for anything. I _hated_ having to show up at Holder's door like that and ask him for help… well, really I guess I didn't really _ask_… I guess I should have probably made it more of a _question_… but one thing I know about Holder, and that's that if it had bothered him, he'd have told me. I like that about him.

I know Jack thinks I'm acting crazy again, but we were really in danger. That drawing was put out intentionally as a message to me. Someone out there knows _way_ too much about me. Someone out there is _watching_ me. I don't have proof, but I know it… I can just feel it.

Or maybe everyone is right, and I _am_ paranoid.

They say that line between paranoia and intuition is razor thin. But I'm not usually wrong about these things. People think I overthink but when it comes down to it… my gut is usually right.

No, I know I'm right this time. I just have to prove it.

…

It was just after 2:00 am when Holder stirred on the couch, where he was sleeping, peering wearily at the small digital clock across the room to confirm what he felt – that it was still the middle of the night. He tried shifting to a more comfortable position, but he had to admit that as much as he liked his couch, it was not meant to be used as a bed. He'd insisted that Linden and Jack take his bed – it was the polite thing to do – but boy did he miss that PosturePedic mattress now. He shifted himself to a sitting position, setting his feet on the floor in front of him. He leaned forward and ran hands over his face. There would be no getting comfortable out here.

He looked up with surprise as he heard the faintest rustling noise from the hallway, and then Linden appeared around the corner. She looked just as tired as he felt. "What's up, Linden?" he asked quietly. "You got your regular 2 hours of sleep and now you're good?" He always wondered how she seemed to run on so little sleep, and she was proving it once again by being awake.

He grinned at her, that stupid, little boy grin that made it so hard for her to be annoyed with him, even when she wanted to be. "Haha," she answered, making a face of sleepy mock indignation. Her eyes moved slowly over the darkened room as she talked. "I've been tossing and turning for what felt like hours. I was afraid I was keeping Jack awake, so I decided to stop fighting it." She paused. "I don't really ever… you know… sleep very well." Without looking at Holder, she walked to the window and peered out at the night.

Holder watched her at the window for a moment, wearing the same worried expression as she had when she'd stood in that same spot earlier that evening. He knew that her mind was wherever it had been earlier, whatever it was exactly that she was worried about. "Some demons are hard to run from," he said quietly. Linden didn't respond, didn't even blink. He wasn't sure she'd heard him. She appeared to be lost in her thoughts.

Sighing with the tiredness that comes from waking up in the middle of the night, he slowly got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He took out two glasses and filled them with cool water. He padded back over to the window where Linden stood looking out and held out a glass to her. She didn't notice him there at first, though his shoulder was only a few inches from hers. "Here," he said simply, handing her the glass. She smiled slightly at him as she took the water, looking surprised to see him suddenly standing there, but her eyes snapped right back to the window and her smile vanished almost as quickly as it had come. _She really IS lost in her thoughts_, Holder thought to himself.

They stood there, almost should to shoulder in comfortable silence, watching the night before them and sipping their water, for a little while. Holder didn't mind. He was just about to go back and lie down on the couch and leave her to her thoughts, when he heard her take a deep breath and say, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I try to run from them, but it never works. And they're worse when I sleep. So… I don't. Not much anyway." _So she had heard him._

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was still staring out the window. "Hey," he said in a voice just as hushed as hers had been, "didn't I tell you? I guess I forgot. This is a demon-free zone. None of those guys allowed here." He turned to face her then, and the movement was enough to pry her eyes from the street outside. He flashed that same dumb smile as before, the same ones as always, because he was really pleased with his attempt at a joke on the off chance that it would make her smile.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "_Now _you tell me," she replied, completely serious. Linden was the queen of deadpan humor.

He shrugged and, trying to stifle a grin, he said "I thought you knew."

_He looks so pleased with himself_, Linden thought.

"C'mon, nothing you need to keep track of out there. Time for bed," he told her, taking her glass of water and setting both of them down on an end table. He started walking toward the hallway. She realized suddenly how tired she was, and reluctantly followed him. He swung the door open slowly, to avoid the squeak that the hinges made if he moved the door too fast, and indicated that she should go in. She dragged herself to the edge and sat down, pausing only for a second to appreciate the softness of the mattress before lying back down and pulling the covers up. She braced herself for her regular routine of tossing and turning.

Holder, however, hadn't left the room yet, she noticed. He walked to the closet and took several pillows off the top shelf. She watched him curiously as he plopped them down in a stack next to the bed. "Holder, what are you doing?" she whispered, hoping that she wouldn't wake up Jack.

"_You_ are gonna get some sleep, Linden," he whispered. "Now, there's no demons here, but I'm gonna stand guard just in case." With that, he sat down on the stack of pillows, his back leaning against the side of the bed, midway between the headboard and the footboard. He glanced up at her as she stared at him, dumbstruck.

"You can't sit there all night!" she whispered emphatically.

"Linden, there's no reason I can't. I'm every bit as stubborn as you, and you know it." She had to admit, he was right about that. "And honestly, this may be more comfortable than sleeping on that couch," he added with a grin. "Unless," he paused, "I'm bothering you."

She stopped to consider this. Was it _weird_ that Holder wanted to sit there all night? Of course! Did it _bother _her? She had to admit that she didn't have a _problem_ with it, exactly…

"No," she said slowly, her confusion still apparent, as she shook her head.

"Then just go to sleep, Linden," Holder said quietly. "No demons. Promise."

"OK, OK," Linden whispered sleepily, putting her head back on the pillow. Her eyes closed almost immediately.

_Good_, Holder thought to himself as he leaned his head back against the side of the bed, feeling tired enough to drift off to sleep, even in his sitting position. It felt good to be able to help her, like had he won a battle of some kind. In some ways, he supposed that he had.


	24. 12 Step Program

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 7-8

DAY 20

Linden and Holder are back in the car, this time on the grounds around the Wapi Eagle casino. It's Native American land, and they know that they have no real jurisdiction there. As usual, they are discussing Rosie Larsen.

"Rosie had secrets," Linden insists. "She went all over the city with that camera. Maybe she saw something, or was looking for something. Maybe out here."

"So, what, you're the Ghost Whisperer now?" asks Holder sarcastically.

Linden doesn't answer right away. "I think Rosie felt trapped. She covered her walls in butterflies. Climbed out onto her roof at night to feel free."

"Is that what got you in trouble in that Picasso case, you talking _mumbo jumbo _to the dead person?"

Linden glares at him, pulling the car over at the outer gate to the casino's long, wooded driveway.

"You can walk from here," she tells him, venom dripping from every word.

"Next time you talk to Rosie, why don't you ask her who killed her? Save me doing _real_ detective work," he replies.

Holder takes off his seatbelt and gets ready to get out of the car. "You know, Jack's been telling me you haven't been sleeping. You know, he's worried about you. So don't go all looney tunes, you know? For his sake."

Linden avoids his gaze as she says, "You're right, I hear there's a 12 step program for _shitty moms_ like me." There's ice in her voice.

"Yo, I'm just saying you might want to step back a little."

"You think because you made us some omelets, you know what's best for Jack?" Linden is irate that Holder would be so presumptuous.

"It's breakfast burritos," he corrects her.

"Go deal with your own problems. I've got mine covered." Linden needs Holder to get out of the car and out of her face. NOW.

"Yeah you do," Holder replies, sarcasm dripping from his words. He gets out of the car.

As he gets out, Linden can't help but get in one more jab. "You talk to your sponsor lately? You might wanna give him a call. Make sure you don't go off the rails again."

Holder gives what sounds like a laugh combined with a snort of disgust, and leans in through the open door. "Yeah well, at least _I_ own _my _addiction."

Holder closes the door, and Linden speeds away.

_Holder_

Damn, that woman is hard-headed! Once she gets a thought into her head _no one_ can tell her anything… sometimes even evidence that she's wrong has a hard time convincing her. Granted, a lot of the time she's right… but why does she have to be so goddamn frustrating about it?

OK yes, I get that she's pissed. I did _not _help the situation back there by bringing up the Picasso case. And yes, that remark about talking mumbo jumbo to the dead person may have been out of line… but sometimes she's just so frustrating I can't help but provoke her. Besides, it's not like I'm making this shit up - she _is _acting kinda insane. Sometimes I totally get what she's trying to do, but not this time. I still think she's totally crazy for thinking walking around the woods talking to ghosts is going to help her find anything useful.

I'm pretty sure that she didn't take anything that I said or didn't say in that conversation the way I meant it. I wasn't _trying_ to be an asshole, though God knows, it must have come out that way. I was trying to tell her that she's close to going off the deep end. Partners should be able to do that for each other. Linden makes it pretty fuckin hard to look out for her… on purpose, no doubt.

Now, being stubborn and bitchy is one thing, but you just **don't** insult a man's cooking! And OK, the fact that she called my breakfast burritos "omelets" wasn't really the point, _but damn, Linden, leave my cooking out of this. _You weren't even polite enough to taste those "omelets."

_Why is she so irritating?_

_Linden_

_Sometimes Holder just doesn't know when to shut up._ I mean, seriously. Can there be one second where he's not a sarcastic asshole? Can't he be serious _for once_? I can't explain my connections to my cases, and I shouldn't have to. The important thing is solving them. If I come off as batshit crazy, what business is it of his? If we solve the case, what the hell difference does it make?

_Why is he so goddamn irritating?_

…

The sky is growing light with each passing second. The lawyers for the Native Americans have begun arriving on the island, and the time that Linden and the police department have to find Holder somewhere in the woods is quickly running out. They are combing the woods as fast as they can, but the area is huge. Linden is terrified that they'll run out of time.

"We've got something!" one of the unis shouts suddenly.

The sound of dogs barking rings in Linden's ears, echoing through the woods.

"Come on guys, let's go!" The K9 suddenly runs frantically, pulling hard on its leash. The officers run through the trees as fast as the terrain allows.

The call comes over the police radio. "Officer down! I repeat, officer down."

"Let me through, let me through!" yells Linden, as she pushes through the crowd.

Time freezes in that instant. Holder lays motionless against a tree, bloodied and bruised. It is impossible to tell if he was alive or dead.

Linden hears her own voice as if it's someone else, shouting from very far away… "Holder! Holder?"

…

DAY 21

It was mid-afternoon when Linden stopped by the hospital for the second time. When she had come by earlier that day, Holder's sister, Liz, had flat out told her to leave, saying that Holder needed his rest. Linden didn't disagree that he needed his rest, but Linden also needed to see him. Looking through the window from the hallway just wasn't the same.

Linden carefully scanned the hallway for Liz, who was thankfully nowhere to be seen. She approached the nurses' station with trepidation, wondering if she'd be allowed in. This situation called for all the charm she could muster. Standing in front of the desk, she smiled at the young, red-headed nurse who sat behind it. Her nametag said "Maggie."

"Can I help you with something?" Maggie asked pleasantly.

Linden gave the woman the most sincere smile she possibly could, and took a deep breath. "Hi, I'm Sarah Linden. I don't know what time visiting hours end but I was really hoping to see Stephen Holder…"

"You're with the police, aren't you?" Maggie replied. "I saw you earlier today, talking to his sister."

Linden nodded. "Yes, he's my partner. He had a bad accident, and I… I just wanted to see him for a minute." She smiled nervously, knowing that the young nurse had all the power to grant or deny her request.

Maggie smiled sympathetically. "Well, visiting hours ended a little while ago, but he doesn't have anyone in with him right now, so I think we can make an exception for you." Linden exhaled with relief.

"Thank you so much." She felt like her face was going to crack from smiling so hard at the other woman. Still, it was worth it.

"You know which room he's in, don't you?" Maggie asked. When Linden nodded her head, she waved her down the hall. "Not sure if he's awake or not, but if he is, no work talk allowed. We don't want to get him agitated."

"OK. Thanks so much," Linden said over her shoulder as she walked down the hall towards Holder's room. As she approached the door, she began to get apprehensive. Holder had looked _better_ when she'd seen him through the window earlier that day, but she couldn't get the picture of him lying against the tree in the early morning light, bloody and unconscious, out of her head. She took deep breaths to calm her nerves.

The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open quietly. The curtains were closed, and room was dimly lit by one small lamp in the far corner of the room. The only sound was the faint beeping of a machine. Linden walked slowly and silently to Holder's bedside. As far as she could tell, he was asleep. He still looked _terrible_, pretty much like he'd been through exactly what he'd been through, though she reminded herself that he looked better than he had when they'd found him. Still, she hated to see him that way, his face and arms covered in bandages, bruises and scratches.

She picked up a flimsy plastic chair that sat against the wall, and brought it over beside the bed. She sat down carefully, not wanting to wake him up. She leaned forward, her elbows leaning on her knees. _I did this_, she thought miserably to herself. _I was selfish and stupid and this is the consequence. It's my fault. _She felt tears prickling her eyes, threatening to escape. She hung her head forward, resting it in the palms of her hands, taking deep breaths to try to slow her racing thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Holder." It came out as barely a whisper. She almost didn't hear it herself. She looked up at him again, trying to will the image of him in front of her, bruised but not bloodied, to replace the one from that morning in the forest. The image from the forest seemed to have seared itself into her memory.

Tears were still threatening to fall, and Linden was pretty sure that if she stayed much longer either that nice red-headed nurse would kick her out, or that Liz would return and spit fire at her for being there. She didn't want either of those things to happen, so she stood and replaced the plastic chair by the wall without a sound, then tiptoed back to the edge of his bed. She smiled at him with a mixture of guilt and relief, and without thinking about it, she reached out one hand and laid it gently on his forearm.

She looked at her hand in surprise, as if someone else had put it there, but didn't recoil as she might have if it had been anyone else. She took one more deep breath and removed her hand from her partner's arm, then turned slowly and walked to the door, leaving it ajar just as she had found it when she arrived.

She walked quickly by the nurses' station and mouthed "thank you" to Maggie, who was talking to a doctor but glanced at her as she walked by. Linden slipped out of the hospital as if she'd never been there.


	25. Listen to Me

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 8

DAY 21

Later that afternoon, Linden takes Jack to the airport. She's come to terms with sending him to Chicago to live with her ex, though it's killing her inside.

As they wait in the boarding area, they hear the announcement over the loudspeaker. "We will now continue boarding rows 25-36 on flight 749 to Chicago."

"My row's boarding now," Jack tells her sullenly. He's already asked her why she won't come with him to Chicago. She knows that he's angry, and scared, and confused all at once. She is too.

He stands up and walks quickly toward the gate, with Linden following closely behind him. She calls to him in a low but urgent voice. "Jack! Jack wait! Hey! Hang on." When she doesn't get a response, she grabs his shoulder.

Jack finally turns around. "Mom, _get off_."

"Listen to me. _Listen to me_." She puts her hands on his shoulders. "You're _strong_. You can do this. You are so much stronger than I was when I was your age. And no matter what happens, you will get through it, because… because you are _my boy_, Jack. You are _my_ baby." She hugs him tightly, before whispering simply, "Bye."

Jack starts walking toward the gate – both of them look like they're going to cry. He stops and looks over his shoulder at her. Though she smiles and nods her head quickly, encouragingly, her face betrays the heartbreak she's feeling. Then he's gone from her sight, through the gate and onto the plane.

Linden strides over to the wall of windows overlooking the tarmac, looking like she may shatter at any second.

Then suddenly, she's not alone. Holder is standing beside her. "Hey. Little man called to say goodbye," he says simply. She nods.

He stands beside her, looking out the window. He knows that under normal circumstances she avoids any physical contact, but because he can see just how much she's hurting, he decides to risk it. When he stretches his hand gently across her back, resting it on her shoulder and rubbing small circles, she doesn't pull away.

_Holder_

That red-headed nurse told me that Linden had stopped by the hospital while I was asleep this afternoon. She said that Linden had looked pretty shaken up, which ain't surprising, considering the last 24 hours. And then when Little Man called to say goodbye… I knew she'd be hanging on by a thread, if at all. Checked myself out as soon as they'd let me… woulda left even if they'd told me I couldn't. I _had _to be there.

That look in her eyes when I got there… man, I was surprised she was still standing. Looked like a gentle breeze could have knocked her over. Linden is emotional at the very best of times… it's her strength _and_ her weakness. But sending Little Man to Chicago? I may not have known her for very long, but I _know_ how much that killed her. It was written all over her face. And in her _eyes_.

I wished there was something I could've done for her, but sometimes all you can do for someone is just being there. I ain't good at a lot of things, but I can do that.

_Linden_

It's all just too much. I just… I can't.

If I could just do it all better... Be a better mom, instead of hurting my son. Be a better detective, instead of getting my partner captured and beaten.

All of this is my fault. _ALL of it._

Somehow no matter how hard I try, it isn't enough. How in the world do I manage to screw up _everything_?

Ironically, breaking things seems to be the only thing I'm truly good at.

…

If there was one thing that Holder knew, it was that Linden did not relax. She'd already proven it time and time again – and he'd only known her for three weeks. As far as he could tell, she avoided moments to just stop and breathe at all costs. So it came as no surprise to him when, after watching Jack's plane take off and disappear into the clouds, Linden turned towards him and announced "Alright, we have work to do." They were the first words she'd spoken since Holder had arrived beside her at the window, but that didn't bother him. Her gratitude for his presence was all over her face.

The heartbreak that he'd seen in her eyes earlier had been replaced by determination and impatience – the emotions that Holder was accustomed to seeing there. He could tell that a new plan of action was already forming in her mind, and that once set, nothing was going to deter her from following through with it.

Still, to say that the two of them had had a little bit of a crazy day was perhaps the understatement of the year. It had been what? About 14 hours or so since they'd found Holder unconscious in the woods? This was probably the time when normal people would have gone home to rest and recover. But no one had accused them of being normal.

They found Linden's car in the airport parking lot, and climbed in wearily. Darkness was already falling outside. Linden suddenly looked around, confused. "Holder, how did you get here, anyway?"

"Took a cab. Straight from the hospital." She nodded in understanding. If she had to guess, she would say he'd left the hospital against the doctors' advice, based on how he looked. She wondered momentarily how he'd gotten past Liz, his guard dog. She still couldn't believe he had come all the way out to the airport just to be there for her, especially since it had obviously required a lot of effort on his part. It wasn't as though he'd happened to have been in the neighborhood. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this feeling that someone cared.

"You OK, Linden?" His voice broke through her thoughts. She realized that she'd been sitting and staring into space, hadn't even moved to put the keys in the ignition. She shook her head quickly to clear her thoughts, nodding and whispering "Yeah, I'm fine." She looked at him and did her best to smile, as if to prove it.

"Are _you_ OK? Because you look kinda rough," she said to him, half teasingly and half seriously. Anything to turn the attention away from herself.

"Ya know, I feel like I got the shit kicked outta me… but it's all good. Luckily for me, I'm still beautiful." And there was the little boy grin again.

Linden rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, but now her smile was genuine. _Same old Holder, even when he looks – and probably feels – like hell, _she thought.

"So, let me drop you off at your place so you can get some rest," she offered, finally putting the key in the ignition and starting the car.

"What? So I can let you work this case on your own? I don't think so, Linden. We both know you need my help. _I know_, you hate to admit it… don't feel bad. I'm just that good." She was pretty sure he said these kinds of things just to get a reaction out of her, and it worked. She hated to admit it, but he really was funny sometimes.

"Shut _up_, Holder." Her grin and her tone gave away her lack of annoyance. They fell into a comfortable silence, each one lost in thought as they drove away from the hospital and back toward the twists and turns of the case.


	26. Still My BFF

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 9

DAY 21, evening

Later that evening, Linden and Holder are in the car outside the station. Holder has already been in their office, which has been completely cleared out. Lt. Carlson had been there as well, telling Holder that it wasn't his fault that he'd been partnered with Linden, but that he should find a new partner. He'd also said that he was lucky to still have his badge after the mess that had been made of the Larsen case.

"I still got a few amigos down in County," he tells Linden when he's back in the car. "I'll make a few calls first thing, see if I can track down those case files."

Linden just nods. Holder starts to get out of the car.

"Holder, I'm sorry. We shouldn't have split up."

"It happened. We're good, Linden. You're still my BFF," Holder replies without a trace of bitterness. He's wearing that grin he always does when he's telling her jokes. Linden smiles. She always smiles when he calls her his BFF.

"Where you going now? Still stayin at that $120 a night flap joint you call a hotel?"

"Get out of my car," Linden says with a smile. They both laugh. Holder opens the door and gets out into the rainy night, leaning back in through the open door.

Linden is momentarily serious. "Holder, thanks. And thanks for being there for Jack." Holder gives a small nod in acknowledgement.

_Holder_

Linden is Linden, and damn is that woman stubborn. When it has to do with work, it's usually a good thing – helps her get the job done no matter what… though of course it also gets her into trouble almost as often, if not more. Funny how that same quality makes her so impossible when it comes to anything _not_ work related. Not that she's not also impossible to work with… But seriously, why does she insist on staying at those crappy motels? I _think _she knows that she could crash at my place… but of course, only the fear of being physically in danger would make her do it.

Yep, Linden is a tough nut to crack.

_Linden_

I feel so guilty about this whole thing. I have trouble believing that he doesn't blame me for it. Yes, he came out of it OK, but how can he _not_ be angry with me? I'm angry with _myself_, and I'm not the one who was beaten and left for dead in the woods!

Why is this always the way it is with me? I wish I knew why everything around me ends up broken.

…

It was morning, and Holder had found Linden sleeping in her car outside of her hotel. Why she had slept there instead of in her hotel room, he did not know, nor did he ask. She surely had her reasons, but Holder knew she'd most likely dance around them.

He had called over to County to ask about the Larsen case files, only to discover that they knew nothing about them. This was obviously not good, but Holder was pretty sure he knew who _did_ know about them, and he was going to pay him a visit.

"The Larsen case files, Linden. They're gone." Holder let her process that for a minute – she was still waking up – while he walked around to the passenger side of the car and got in. She turned and looked at him as he sat down next to her, an expression of exhaustion mixed with shock on her face. "We're going to pay Gil a little visit. I think he may know something about it," Holder told her. "But first, we're stopping for breakfast."

"No, I'm-" Linden started to protest.

"Don't even think about it, Linden. We're getting breakfast and there's nothing you can say to change my mind. Do I need to take the keys and drive there myself?" Holder looked at her sternly.

"No, fine, I know a losing battle when I see one…" Linden grumbled. Their stubbornness was about evenly matched for the most part, but one topic on which Holder would not compromise was food, especially breakfast. Linden had long since learned this. She steered the car to the coffee shop around the corner, where they stopped at some point almost every day. They parked on the street in front of the small shop and shivered against the cold as they walked to the door.

The aroma that overwhelmed them as the doors opened made Linden realize that she actually _was_ hungry. At the counter, Holder ordered coffee for both of them, a maple bacon doughnut for himself as well as several other miscellaneous pastries. He knew Linden well enough to know that left to her own devices, it wasn't certain whether she would eat at all. She tried to protest when he paid for the whole order, but barely got a word out before he cut her off. "Forget it, Linden. Drink up," he told her, handing her a coffee cup.

Back in the car, he removed his maple bacon doughnut from the bag of pastries and handed her the rest of the selection. "Pick something," he said simply. "And _don't_ try to tell me you're not hungry. I heard your stomach growling when we walked in that door, and that's one scary sound. I can't be hearing that all day."

"Shut up, Holder." She tried, but failed, to hide her smile completely. He was so irritating sometimes, but a good friend at the same time. She couldn't help but feel like she didn't deserve to have someone care that much about her. Especially when she did nothing but mess up his life and threaten his career.

Taking a bite of a blueberry muffin, she debated whether to ask him the question that was on her mind, but then decided she might as well. "Why do you care so much about whether I eat or not, anyway?"

He looked over at her, his face serious for a change. "Why do _you_ care so much whether I hang out in the middle of a bridge in the middle of the night?"

A hint of a smile crept across her face. "Fair enough," she replied. She buckled her seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition. "Alright, we have work to do. Let's go find Gil."


	27. I'm Here

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 9

DAY 22

Linden and Holder are sorting through Gil's storage locker, looking for any trace of the Rosie Larsen case files, and most importantly Rosie's key to the tenth floor of the Wapi Eagle Casino. They are _not_ feeling optimistic, because it's a very large storage locker, containing a very large collection of what appears to be junk.

Linden has just finished a phone call with Jack, who, from what Holder overhears of the call, is doing very well at his dad's house in Chicago. He hears Linden mention an iPod and his own room.

"Little Man OK?" Holder asks after Linden hangs up.

"Yeah, he's great." Linden doesn't sound happy, and doesn't elaborate. Holder suspects that Jack may very well be doing great, but that Linden, on the other hand, is not.

There's silence as they continue looking through piles of Gil's belongings. Holder stops and watches her carefully.

"You know, it's gonna take more than an iPod to win him over." He knows that she _must_ know this, at least in theory, but he also suspects that she still needs to hear it.

Linden shakes her head quickly, as if dislodging those very thoughts from her mind. Based on her reaction alone, Holder can tell that he was right. He can also see that she doesn't want to talk about it. She changes the subject back to work. "The maid is willing to meet us at the end of her shift, open the kitchen door, avoid the cameras."

"_If_ we find the key," Holder reminds her. He's staying cautiously optimistic about that damn key.

He pauses, still not quite willing to let go of the previous topic of conversation, despite how he knows she'll react. "You OK, Linden?"

Linden nods her head. "I'm fine," she replies quickly. Her face, however, betrays her.

But by now – after all of twenty-two long, intense days together – he knows her better than anyone else in the world, possibly better than she knows herself. And he knows that she's obviously not fine. He also knows that she's probably going to keep it all to herself. Still, he puts the offer out there.

"You know, you… you can talk to me. About whatever. If you want. I'm here."

Linden stops looking through the piles of junk. She peers across the storage locker to where Holder is standing and gives him the most genuine smile he has ever seen on her face. They've been through quite a few tough times together in only a few weeks, and they've built up a level of trust between them. Still, this kind of thing has been completely unsaid up til now.

She is touched at his sweet offer, given without even a hint of his trademark sarcastic jokes.

"I know you are…" she begins, then stops. She's genuinely touched, but she's still Sarah Linden, whose immediate instinct when faced with emotions is to redirect the focus to anything else, most commonly onto work. So of course, she changes the subject back to the job once again. "So can we find the key now?"

"Yeah, whatever you say, boss," Holder replies amicably.

_Holder_

I definitely don't envy Linden. She's under so many different kinds of stress at the moment, I doubt she could even identify them all. I wish I could do something to help make things easier for her.

I can't explain it really, but somehow I seem to have developed some kind of sixth sense, some sort of talent for reading Linden's mind. She's not one to open up, and yet… it's like I can sense what she's thinking sometimes. Today in Gil's storage locker isn't the first time it has happened, either. It's not something I can even really explain. We just seem to get each other. I've gotta keep that to myself though, because if anything would scare the shit out of her, it's someone knowing what she's thinking.

But boy, maybe if I think I understand what goes on in that head of hers I should be a little bit afraid, because if I understand Linden's crazy logic… what does that say about _me?_ …Oh, I crack myself up sometimes.

_Linden_

I don't envy Holder right now. I know that I'm not easy to work with at the best of times, but I just feel like I'm more of a wreck over this case than usual. Sending Jack to Chicago has just pushed me over the edge a little bit extra. But I can do it… of course I can.

It's like a battle within myself. _Don't you want Jack to be happy,_ part of me is asking. _Of course_ I want him to be happy. He's my son. So why does it upset me so much to hear that he's happy? Because… he's not here, being happy with me. Not that he was happy when he _was_ here with me.

Logically, I know that he just _couldn't_ be happy with me. I couldn't give him what he needed, and that's really hard to accept. There isn't any greater failure as a parent than having to ship your child off to live with someone else because you can't – for whatever reason – take care of them… and that's exactly what happened. Jack was basically all I had in the world, and now I don't even have him. As I always have, I specialize in destroying everything good around me.

And then there's Holder. Even if I wanted to confide in him – which I just _**can't**_– I wouldn't begin to know how to tell him the things I want to say. What _do_ I even want to say? I don't know! I wouldn't even know where to start, or how… How do you tell someone that just knowing that you're not alone is enough to help you get by?

How do you tell someone that they're pretty much the only thing keeping you from drowning?

The funny thing is… I feel like he knows.

…

He knows now that they shouldn't have done any of it. They shouldn't have broken into Gil's storage locker to search for the Rosie Larsen case files… except, that their hunch had been right, and they'd actually _found_ the files there. Still, it wasn't worth it to him to put Linden in danger like this, no matter _what _Linden herself would say.

Linden sneaking into the casino had been a mistake, one that Holder had helped her make. He was fighting back anger at himself for having let her go in alone, which didn't make sense, of course, because there was no way to _stop _Linden from doing anything once her mind was made up.

He'd tried to get her to let him go in her place, but Linden wouldn't hear of it. After all, he had just been released from the hospital after being beaten at the hands of the casino's own security as it was. So since he couldn't talk her out of it, he'd gone in and created the grandest distraction that he could, buying her time to do what she was determined to do either way. He could only hope that she'd get out safely.

They'd been on the phone while she was up on the 10th floor, looking for something – anything – to prove what they just _knew_ had gone on up there on the night of October fifth. They had to prove it, or the whole case was going to be swept under the rug. The last thing Holder had told her was to turn off her flashlight… except that she said that she already _had _turned off her flashlight. It wasn't _her_ flashlight he had seen. That was where it all started going horribly wrong. He had heard what sounded like a loud thump – maybe Linden being knocked out? – and then nothing. The connection went dead. He'd tried to call her back multiple times, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. That's when he'd known.

As much as he'd hated himself for doing it, he'd had to leave the island without her. Something had happened up there, and though he hated to admit it, he could not fix it this time. He couldn't save her from whoever it was that had found her there. Not only was he outnumbered and still weakened from his injuries, but he also had absolutely no jurisdiction there… and he had already experienced first-hand just how friendly the tribe was with uninvited law enforcement… which was why he was now so worried about Linden.

He tried not to squeal the tires of the car as he took off back towards the ferry as fast as he could without arousing suspicion. He couldn't help her by staying there, he kept telling himself. It didn't stop the sick feeling in his stomach, the feeling that he should have done _something _to prevent this outcome. What he could have done, of course, he had no idea. He had done the only thing he thought he _could _do… but he could see now that it hadn't been right at all.

He had to get back to the station, then he'd figure something out. He didn't have any idea _what_ he'd do, only that he couldn't do anything here on the island, where he had less than no power. Still, as he sat on the ferry on the way back to the mainland, he couldn't help but repeat a silent prayer that Linden would be OK. Apparently she'd already received the only "warning" that the pair of them was going to get, which, according to the chief, was why he'd ended up in the woods, beaten. He couldn't bear the thought of something similar happening to her.

Traffic was light as he drove back through the city to the station to figure out his next move. He was trying desperately to think of ways to calm down, because he knew he was no good to anyone if he was too upset to think rationally. Still, when forced to stop at red lights, he beat the steering wheel in frustration until the light changed and he could move again.

Upon entering the station, he saw Ray, who he quickly waved into an empty office. Ray looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. "What's going on, Holder? Everything OK?"

"It's Linden," Holder started. In the short time that they'd worked together, Ray had never seen the detective so distraught. Holder's eyes darted into the hall, making sure no one was there to overhear their conversation. "We weren't supposed to, but we went back to the casino… we got into kind of a mess..."

Ray's expression changed quickly. He was more or less in the loop, because Linden and Holder trusted his discretion. He had proven himself loyal to them time and time again. Ray understood the significance of what Holder was saying, and how serious things could be.

"Something happened to her up there, at the construction site in the casino. One minute I was talking to her on the phone, the next minute the line went dead and her phone was going to voice mail. I couldn't exactly run in there to find out what happened to her, and after my brush with them, I'm worried. Could you just… let me know if you hear anything?" Holder hated having to rely on someone else to hear what was going on with Linden, but it was his only choice. He couldn't just sit by the phone in the station, waiting. He'd have to deal with Carlson about this soon enough, but sooner would _not_ be better than later.

"Sure thing, man. Soon as I hear something," said Ray seriously.

Holder clapped Ray on the shoulder, muttered "Thanks," then turned and stalked out of the station. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do to pass the achingly slow minutes until he heard something, but all he knew was that he had to keep moving. He'd follow up on the few leads he could think of, and hopefully by then, he would hear from Ray.


	28. Look At Me

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 10

DAY 23

Linden wakes up in the same psychiatric ward where she'd ended up during the Seward case. Regi had brought her in that time, after a scared and worried Jack had called her. This time, she has no recollection of how she got there. She only knows that she needs to get _out_.

After a heated conversation with a psych ward staff member and Lt. Carlson, Holder is able to see her - but only as a visitor. He's not quite sure how she ended up there either, but it had something to do with someone back at the casino. That much he knows.

He walks carefully over to where she is sitting, staring into space, and sits down next to her.

"Hey. How're you holding up, Linden?" He's speaking very softly.

Linden, even medicated, is still herself enough to skip the small talk, though her speech slurs slightly. "We don't have a lot of time. What do you got?"

Holder continues to speak quietly. "There was a break in at the waterfront the night of Rosie's death. Yannick Kovarski's guy. He gets arrested. Ames doesn't press charges. An hour later, we got Ames cancelling his weekend plans, heading to the casino. To meet with Chief Jackson most likely."

"And someone from City Hall. I saw a white key card," she reminds him, the slur in her voice again making the drugs in her system obvious.

"So they were plants, at the waterfront. And it went wrong when Kovarski's guy got arrested. We're close, Linden." Holder pauses, only now realizing how drugged she really is, and that she's not completely with him. "Hey," he whispers gently. "Hey, look at me."

Linden _tries_ to focus on Holder, but finds that she can't. "I saw a white key card from City Hall," she repeats.

Holder stares at her, worried, unsure exactly what to do, only knowing that he needs to do _something_. It's painful to see his partner like this, reduced to an almost zombie-like state. The same partner who was usually so full of fire.

"What'd they do to you?" he asks her tentatively, afraid of the answer.

"Please don't leave me here." It comes out as barely a whisper, one full of desperation. It's answer enough to make his skin crawl.

He watches her worriedly before he speaks again. "I'm gonna get you out of here," he promises her.

Just then a nurse taps him on the shoulder. "Sir, it's time," comes a voice behind him. He reaches back to gently swat the hand away, signaling for just another few seconds. He doesn't take his eyes off of Linden. "Just hang tight for a couple hours. I'm _not_ leaving you in here. You hear? I'm _not_ leaving you here." It is a promise as much to himself as it was to her, and he can't be sure she even hears him.

Linden stares straight ahead. Holder is being ushered out of the visiting area, but he's already forming a plan to get Linden out.

…

_Holder _

That place gives me the _creeps_. Seriously freaky bad vibes. It's like those people are there, but they're… not. The worst is seeing Linden in there. Linden, who's sharp as a tack every day of the week, never without a biting remark or a deadpan joke, no matter if she's eaten or slept or not. And sure, she's a goddamn pain in the ass most of the time, but I'd rather her be a pain in the ass than see that glassy look in her eyes. I could _hear_ her pleading for help getting out of that place just by looking at her.

I hated to leave her there even long enough to figure out what to do. I don't think she's in danger, necessarily – though someone clearly got her in there under false pretenses, so I can't _completely_ feel safe that she's locked up there, where they have complete control over her – it's just… it's not her in there. And I'm usually the one person who _can_ – and does – help her, when no one else gives a damn at all. I'm going to do it this time, too. I just have to figure out what… and _how_.

_Linden_

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! What the hell happened? Ohhhhh, my head…. Damn those drugs they gave me! I need to be able to think clearly! I just want them out of my system… The last thing I remembered I was in the casino and Holder told me to turn off my flashlight… except, my flashlight _was_ off. That's when I knew there was someone else up there with me, and that something bad was about to happen. And then… nothing.

Someone did this to me, brought me here. Which means we're close, really close. I just have to get these people to let me _OUT _of this place… Everything about this place makes my skin crawl. Worst of all, between the drugs and the damn psychologist prodding me with questions, all I can think about is _last time_. She wants me to talk about the Seward case. It's like she wants me to go crazy _all over again_. I don't even want to _think_ about the Seward case. It's over. I've put it behind me the best I could. Not only did it consume me that time, and almost cause me to lose what little I had back then, but it was how I wound up here last time. This terrible place… why the hell would I want to dig all that up again?

That time, maybe I needed to be here. I really _had_ started to lose myself. But not this time. Yes, I'm in deep on this case and yes, I probably care too much about solving Rosie's murder – though really, _someone_ should give a damn about the truth of what happened to the poor girl – and not enough about myself, but I've managed to keep in touch with reality, at least. Sure, I'm plenty fucked up. I always have been! But I'm _**fine**_. This time, I'm here because someone doesn't want this case solved and they're using my past against me, to discredit me. I know it. I just have to find a way to prove it – which I will. _We_ will.

Because this time, whether I like it or not – and I haven't quite decided yet – this time, I'm not alone.

…

After only a brief phone conversation, Rick had shown up later that same afternoon, all the way from Sonoma, to sign Sarah out of the psych ward. Holder had to give him credit for that. However, in the waiting area he had filled out the paperwork and then turned and left before Sarah even walked through the door – but _not_ before she had _seen him_. That was kinda fucked up as far as Holder was concerned.

"I'll help get her out, but I can't be involved anymore. She's your responsibility now," were Rick's exact words to Holder, before he turned and left without a backwards glance at the woman who had been his fiancé only a few weeks before. Holder wasn't glad for his partner's pain, but he was glad that a guy that would give up on her like that was out of her life. It was definitely for the best.

After signing discharge papers and collecting her belongings, Linden had emerged through a locked door into the lobby. Holder had seen her eyes searching the room for Rick, had noticed her face fill with disappointment when she realized that he was no longer there. Then she looked up and saw Holder waiting for her at the other end of the waiting area. Her face changed as she tried to rearrange it into a smile for him, despite her obvious disappointment. Sure, she had basically dumped the guy without much discussion, but rejection was rejection, and Holder knew how it stung. Still, he was there, and he hoped that his presence would comfort her. They walked out of the waiting room, out of the building and into the crisp air together without a word.

Linden stopped at the bottom of the broad steps in the front of the building. Holder halted next to her. She was still feeling the effects of the drugs, and trying to process what had just happened. "So… he signed me out, and then… he left?" Holder was surprised that Linden was even asking. It wasn't like her to broach touchy subjects on purpose. She looked at him, and he nodded only very slightly. "How did he even know I was here?"

"I called him," Holder replied honestly. "I talked to a bunch of people before I figured out who could get you out of there, and then to figure out how to get in touch with him." He paused and then continued, "And whatever you think of him, Linden, I gotta tell you that when I told him what was going on, the guy got on a plane right away." Holder paused again, unsure if he should say more. This time it was Linden's turn to read _his_ mind.

"But let me guess, he said that he's done doing me favors?" She looked him in the eye, but her expression told him that she was braced for an answer that she didn't want to hear. He watched her whole body tense in anticipation.

Holder tried to force his mouth into some semblance of a smile as he sighed and said "Well, let's just say I'm hoping not to need anyone to bail you out of the psych ward again," trying to wrap the uncomfortable truth – that Rick was really and truly done with her – in a more palatable, less hurtful package. Linden looked away and took a few quick breaths to steady herself, nodding her head rapidly in understanding. She was trying to absorb this new information and then let it roll off her back, so to speak, but it wasn't easy for her. She knew that it was a rejection that she had caused, but it didn't make it easier. It never did, really, but that was what she always steeled herself against for just this reason.

Holder had another flash of what was going through her mind – or though he did, anyway – so he gave her a minute to steady herself before he spoke. She was still looking down at her feet, taking deep breaths. "Hey Linden?" he said, then waited until he had her attention. She looked up at him without a word, and her eyes seemed to reveal an emptiness behind them. "I'm still here."

She smiled then, a genuine smile like the one she had given him in Gil's storage locker. "Yeah," she whispered, not dismissively, not even sadly. The earnestness in her voice took Holder by surprise. "Thanks," she said simply. And that was enough, because they understood each other.

He smiled back at her, this unlikely partner of his, and they walked to the car together without another word. One way or another, it would be OK.


	29. They Gotta Pay

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just way too much fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 11

DAY 24

Holder is only in that coffee shop for a few minutes, but when he returns, Linden is no longer asleep in the car where he left her. He has a half a second of panic – he has grown very protective of his partner of late, especially after seeing her so vulnerable in the psych ward – before he sees her, a short distance away, down by the water. She's smoking and staring out into the distance.

"Hey. You should eat something," he says as he approaches her, handing her a paper bag. Without a word she takes out a doughnut, which she bites into hurriedly. "Yeah, they had you drugged up pretty good. You were all docile and glassy eyed like my Aunt Doris."

"It doesn't make sense," Linden says, ignoring Holder's small talk.

"What?" asks Holder, not sure what she's talking about.

Linden has just woken up and hasn't fully recovered from the drugs they'd fed her in the psych ward, but her mind is already back on the case. "Why would the mayor torpedo his own waterfront project? You've got Ames and Chief Jackson at the casino. We know what they were meeting about now, the break in at the waterfront. So what was the mayor doing there? We gotta get that keycard. Let's go."

Holder is taken aback. Even for Linden, this is crazy. "Whoa, Linden. Did they erase your mind while you were in that nuthouse? Remember what happened last time you went to the casino? Kuloms don't mess around." Linden shows no signs of having heard him. She just walks back towards the car.

_Obviously Linden must be starting to feel like her old self again_, Holder thinks, _because she's already frustrating the hell out of me._ "Hold _UP,_" he calls to her, scrambling to follow her back to the car. "Look, I know you wanna nail the guy. I feel that. Believe me, but…"

Linden opens the car door. "Talk while you drive?"

_Typical Linden, unable to let the case go for one goddamn second_, Holder thinks to himself as they get in the car. "I'm just saying, you've been sleeping inside your car, you _just_ got out of that place… maybe, I dunno, you wanna take a nap. Shower. Rest a little." He's trying to reason with her, but as usual, she's being impossible. _Why can't she see what she does to herself? _he wonders. 

"So now it's you, too." It's an accusation, and there's a note of hurt in her voice, like she assumes that he's betrayed her the same way she thinks that everyone else always does.

"What?" asks Holder, taken aback. He can't believe when she's accusing him of. _After everything? Really, Linden?_

Linden turns to look at him and they stare at each other intently, almost at a stand-off.

"Come on!" Holder isn't going to let her think that, because it's not true. _Of course_ he has her back!

"They gotta pay," Linden replies simply. That's what it all comes down to for her in this case.

"I _know_. We ain't getting back in that casino without a federal warrant." Holder's trying his best to get Linden to see reason.

"Then I guess we'd better get one," Linden replies, as if it's as easy as just filling out paperwork.

_It's going to be another long day,_ Holder thinks to himself.

_Holder_

She's **impossible**! I've never met anyone so hard-headed, so single-minded, so frustratingly stubborn in my life. Sure, I can be stubborn too, but I like to think of myself as a reasonable person… sometimes I don't have any idea how to get her to see reason. This would be one of those times.

I get that she wants justice. I do too. But she's impossible. There are limits, and she just refuses to acknowledge them. Refuses to admit that she can't solve the case by sheer willpower alone. That there are rules and ways that things have to be done and she just ignores it all and runs headfirst into danger, with no back-up plan. And I admire that about her but _damn_, at the same time it's beyond frustrating.

She doesn't understand that she won't be any good to anyone else if she's not also looking out for _herself._ So the only thing I can do about that is try to look after her… but I can't save her from herself. Not every time, anyway.

_Linden_

_Why do no one understand_?

They don't get it. **This is important. **Rosie Larsen's murderer being brought to justice is important. You can't just kill a child and go about your business. And no one else cares. A politician is involved, so everyone just looks the other way, and no one cares. Why am I the only one who sees how wrong this is?

Even Holder looks at me like I'm crazy sometimes. As if me taking a shower is more important than solving this case. _Nothing_ is more important that solving this case! How can I rest when I know that there's more I can do? It's more than my job.

It's the only thing I'm good at.

…

The sun was going down, and it was time to regroup. Gwen had answered their questions about the night of the murder and the cancelled meeting with Eutanis, though she had been evasive and unhelpful, if not completely uncooperative. Neither Linden nor Holder could remember exactly when they'd last eaten, and Holder took that as a sign.

"C'mon Linden, let's go back to my place for a bit and regroup," Holder said as they wearily got back into the car for the five hundredth time that day. Linden arched her eyebrow and smiled questioningly at him. Holder rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, now you've got jokes, huh? Yes, I just said 'Let's go back to my place.' Dammit, let me finish! I've got leftover pizza in the fridge so we can eat _and _talk shop, like I know you like to, and figure out our next move."

"Hey, I didn't say a thing," Linden replied, trying, but failing, to keep a straight face. "Sounds good to me."

They entered Holder's apartment and Holder closed the door behind them, dropped his keys on an end table and headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, Linden," he called as he walked away. Linden stood in the open area in front of the door and noticed that it looked almost exactly as it had the time she and Jack had arrived unexpectedly in the middle of the night. She hadn't taken in as many of the details that time, having been so worried about being watched. Looking around now, she noticed that the place was very "Holder" – neat but not immaculate, homey but not cluttered – comfortable. She thought back to that night that she had called Holder from the hallway, asking if he was home before knocking on his door. How she had been so scared for her safety, and for Jack's.

Jack.

The son that she had shipped off to Chicago, to a father who could be a parent to him. Unlike her. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath. Then another. Her feet were suddenly rooted to the spot where she stood, and she felt like she could fall over from the weight of everything pressing down on her. There was nothing within reach that she could hold for support, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on remaining upright. _More deep breaths_, she told herself.

"You want coffee?" Holder called from the kitchen. Linden's eyes snapped open and she returned to reality, suddenly able to move again.

"Yeah, thanks," she called. She watched him through the cut out area in the wall between the kitchen and the living room, moving around, pressing buttons and clinking dishes. Wandering over to his "knowledge corner," she ran her fingers along the spines of the books there, pulling them out at random to look at them. Some of them were new, and some had been there the last time she been there, like the book about Monarch Butterflies. That book had led her to Pt. Eubik, outside the casino… which had led to…

Linden shook her head to forcibly dislodge the image of Holder laying against the tree, covered in blood and possibly dead. She didn't need to go there. He was fine. She glanced in the direction of the kitchen as if to reassure herself one more time that so many of those decisions that she had made earlier in the case had not led to any permanent harm. She pushed the Monarch Butterfly book back in amongst the others and walked back towards the couch and sat down, suddenly aware of how tired she was.

A few minutes later, Holder emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee and two plates, each holding two pieces of pizza. She smiled, realizing for the first time that day that she was hungry, and accepted both the coffee and a plate. "Were you a waiter in a past life? That was pretty impressive," she asked, referring to the fact that he had carried all of the dishes at once.

"Nah, I'm just an impressive guy," he said, settling himself on one of the barstools nearby. Linden rolled her eyes at him, as usual.

"OK, so…" she began between bites of pizza, and they were back to talking about the case, all thoughts of not being able to take care of Jack, Holder lying unconscious in the woods and all the other things that she wanted desperately to forget, once again left behind for the moment. That was just where she liked those thoughts, and all the others like them.


	30. Got Your Back

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 12

DAY 25

Linden and Holder are at Holder's apartment. They have been discussing the case, but have fallen into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Rain hammering on the roof is the only sound to be heard.

Suddenly Holder breaks the silence. "You never told me he was your shrink." He looks up at her, "Rick?" Taking a sip of his coffee, he watches her.

Linden looks at him, her face impassive, as she sits on the couch holding a cigarette between her fingers. "Your point?" She hasn't shut the conversation down yet, though once upon a time not so very long ago that would have been her first reaction to this line of questioning. But they have become pretty close in the past few weeks, so she's willing to at least see why he brought it up. This just shows what a difference a few weeks has made.

"Nothin, I'm just sayin…" Holder isn't quite sure if he's asking a question or not. There's silence again, less comfortable this time, as Holder looks around. Now it's Linden who's watches _him_.

"You think I'm gonna go nuts again?" she asks bluntly.

Holder exhales loudly. "Nah, Linden, I got your back's all I'm sayin. Think of me as your sensei in the bloodsport of life."

Linden smiles at that, and they both chuckle. _OK,_ Linden thinks to herself. _Maybe Holder __**is**__ funny._

_Holder_

If you'd have told me when I met Linden that we'd be having this conversation, I would've laughed in your face. She can be the queen of bottled up emotions, to put it _very_ nicely, when she wants to be, which is pretty much all the time, and with, as far as I can tell, everyone in the world. Except that for whatever reason, she's warming up to me. How do I know? Because I pretty much just told her that I would look out for her – basically said that I cared – and not only did she not run screaming in the other direction, not only did she not make any sarcastic comments, but she actually smiled, accepted the support and even seemed to appreciate my corny sense of humor! Talk about a victory…

I knew I'd wear her down with my charm eventually.

_Linden_

Holder can be so goofy sometimes. I don't know what it is about him that puts me at ease. I mean, he can be so frustrating and annoying, of course, worse than a little kid… but it's weird, it's like the way I push people away – because I'm aware of it, and I do it on purpose – it doesn't work on him. He just kinda waits it out and gives me that stupid little kid grin and tells me the world's worst jokes… and I don't know why that works, but it does.

I wonder how long it'll be before I burn that bridge… because somehow, I always do.

…

After all of the hassle and trauma of getting into the casino to investigate – first "unofficially," and then with a federal warrant – and only after Holder's life had been endangered, they'd finally gotten the recording of the casino elevators from the night of Rosie's death. Playing back that tape had been the ultimate vindication for Linden and Holder. Not only was Rosie Larsen on the tape, putting her in the casino elevator on the night she was killed, but so were Chief Jackson, Michael Ames, and Jamie Wright – Richmond's campaign advisor. Finally, all of their work, their wrong turns and false leads, had paid off.

The recording ended, and the two sat in front of the screen, still reeling from the realization of what this meant. They had done it. The case was as good as solved. Slowly, they both sat back from the screen, which they'd been huddled close to in order to examine the grainy footage from the security camera. It was almost hard to believe that they had the evidence they'd been searching for so desperately for so many weeks, right there in front of them. It was almost like it wasn't real.

A small smile swept across Linden's face as she allowed herself to believe that this moment _was_ real. "We did it," she whispered in disbelief.

"_You_ did it, Linden," Holder corrected her. "There's no way any other cop in the station, myself included, would have ever been determined enough to keep going on this case. It was you." Then, to make sure he wasn't being too serious, he added, "You know, my ass was just riding around, keeping you company, taking a little nap in the woods…"

They watched each other and he could see the wheels in her head turning. The trace of a smile quickly faded from her face. She looked down at the floor, and slowly began speaking, her voice coming out barely above a whisper. "No Holder, that little "_episode_" in the woods, that's no joke. That was all on me." She took a deep breathe, and continued. "If you _hadn't_ been OK, I never would have forgiven myself. When it comes to work, we both know I'm driven, and we both know I go to the point of being reckless a lot of the time."

She stared into the distance, not looking at him. "I'm used to it just being my own life that I put on the line, and I'm sorry that I gambled with yours, too." She paused, looking back at him to gauge his reaction. He was watching her intently, not quite smiling, but no looking unhappy either. Looking interested in what she was saying. Like he cared.

He shook his head ever so slightly. "We've been over this, Linden. We're good. I'm _fine_," he insisted, knocking on his head for good measure. "See? Everything still works."

She shook her head at him, smiling slowly. "Well fine, but you can't tell me it was all me. It's not like I could've broken out of the psych ward by myself. And if not for you, who would have insisted that I eat for the past three weeks?"

He chuckled to himself. "Well I guess you're gonna have to face it, Linden, we make a pretty good team. Not bad for someone who don't play well with others, huh?" That was his playful reminder that she had despised the idea of working with him when they'd first been forced into it.

"Haha," Linden said good-naturedly. "You talkin' about me or you?" She stood up and stretched. "Well, come on _partner_, we still gotta go get the bad guy."

"Ready when you are, _boss_," replied Holder, standing up and following her out of the small room.

It was time to finish the job.


	31. Walk With Me

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 2, episode 13

**Author's Note: **I reversed the way I have structured most of the previous chapters this time, and skipped the middle section, so this chapter's a little shorter… I just really wanted to end with that particular scene from the season 2 finale, and it just felt finished, despite the length. I know the updates on this story have slowed down a little - I've been busy lately, and I've also started a Walking Dead (my newest obsession) fanfic, but I have every intention of seeing this one through the end of season 4. Thank you all for sticking with me.

DAY 26

Holder got up and walked quickly to catch up with Linden as she left their darkened office and disappeared around the corner, Rosie Larsen's home movie in hand.

"Yo, Linden. Where're you going? You gonna watch Rosie's video? Now?" he called after her.

Linden stopped mid-way down the hall and turned around to watch him as he caught up with her. She just bobbed her head in response, the same grim, pursed lipped expression on her face that'd been there as they'd sat in their darkened office. She'd barely said a word except to ask him for a cigarette. "Might as well, I guess. Not that it matters now," she finally answered flatly.

Linden was almost always serious about work, but this was different. Something was off. She remained where she was, just stood and looked at Holder, as if by stopping mid-way to her destination, she'd suddenly lost the desire to go there at all, or to go anywhere else. She looked exhausted in every way a person can be exhausted. It was like that last little bit of hallway was just too much.

It was another one of those moments where Holder just… knew. He couldn't explain how, and he couldn't even put into words _what_ he knew.

"C'mon," he said as he walked the last few steps to where she stood, "You're right, we might as well." He took a step past her, but she didn't move. She seemed to be rooted to the spot where she stood. His own exhausted expression softened a little then. "C'mon, Linden. Walk with me." She did move then, and they walked side by side the rest of the way to the room at the end of the hall with the film equipment. There was no need to say anything else.

…

Linden and Holder are sitting in that same stupid car as usual, parked in an alley. Finally, after what had felt like a million twists and turns, the Rosie Larsen case is _closed_. Solved. Finished, for sure this time. Linden knows she should feel relief. Closure. And maybe in some ways she does.

Holders phone rings, and he answers, hoping it's not anything urgent. "Hey, Holder. What? You gotta be kidding me. Yeah, yeah, whatever, we'll be there." He hangs up in disgust. He doesn't even want to tell Linden the news, because he knows she's not going to like it. She'd been even quieter than usual all day. She hadn't even objected to his wanting to drive, which tells him not for the first time that day that something is up. "They found a body down near Seatack. Lou says we're first up."

Linden stares at him with a frown, then gazes out the front window into the distance. Without a word, or even a change in her expression, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car, shutting the car door behind her. Holder can't even claim to be surprised. He hadn't known exactly what he was expecting her to do, but he had known that whatever it was, it would happen soon.

"Linden," he calls. She leans down to the open window, half smiling at him then, the first time that day. He knows from the look on her face that she isn't coming with him, no matter what. Something tells him that she's just had enough, and he wants to say _something_ to her before she disappears. "We got the bad guy."

"Yeah? Who's that?" He can't answer that question.

"Hey, keep in touch. You're my ride, ya know?"

Once upon a time – only twenty-six days ago, and yet several lifetimes ago to him – he had uttered these words to her as a complaint, back when it was clear that they couldn't _stand_ each other. Now, less than a month later, those same words are the strongest endearment he can think of, and the only thing he can think to say to her before she bolts. Because he knows that she's going to. He doesn't try to stop her, because he knows her well enough by now to know that she needs to go. It's hard to watch your best friend walk away, but he's come a long way in making peace with his demons, and he knows that she needs to do the same.

He starts the car and drives away, hoping that he'll see her again, eventually.

She stands still for a minute in the spot that had been beside the car a moment before, then walks a few steps before she stops to stare at the Larsens' moving and storage sign and the van with the same logo that's parked below it. She takes it all in for the last time. She doesn't know exactly how she feels, but the best way she can describe it is drained, both physically and emotionally. More than drained. Empty. She knows that she did it to herself, again. She saw it coming, she told herself she wouldn't let it happen, but in the end, she couldn't stop herself.

She knows what she has to do. She has to get away this time, now while she has the chance, before she gets sucked in again. Not sure of her actual destination, she turns and walks down the street, away from all of this. Unsure of what she's running from, only sure that it's time to go.


	32. One Year Later

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 1

It's been a year since he's seen her on that day they closed the Rosie Larsen case, but today Holder has come to visit Linden at her house on Vashon Island. He meets Cody, Linden's "friend," as he arrives, just as Cody is leaving. Of course, he then teases Linden about Cody's age, and the fact that she's "dating" or "booty-calling" or whatever she wants to call it. Finally, mercifully, Holder changes the subject away from Cody.

"So how's Little Man doing? I heard he got himself a sweet little piece."

"_Holder!"_ Linden says in a warning tone. "He has a _girlfriend_."

"You know, we text every now and then. Keeps me in the loop." She hadn't known, but she thinks that it's kinda cute.

"Yeah, he always liked you for _some_ reason."

"What's not to like?" Holder never had done modesty well, but at least his comments like these had always been said with a grin, obviously not to be taken seriously. Today was no exception.

Linden smiles at him then, a bigger smile than he can remember ever seeing on her face. She has now stopped moving around and is sitting across the table from him, holding her cup of tea. Holder's tea sits in front of him.

She has missed him in the past year, though she hadn't let herself realize it until now.

Still, they know each other too well, even after all this time. Linden can see that he's clearly there for a reason, besides just checking up on her. "So why are you here?" she asks.

_Damn,_ Holder thinks to himself. _Busted_. He has wanted to check up on her for some time now, but it never seemed to be the right time. Now work has finally given him an excuse. "Uh, that case you were working on a couple of years ago – the Picasso kid who did that drawing?" Linden's smile fades before his eyes. "Mom was a hooker, got her head cut off? Caught a body this morning. Working girl, head hanging by a thread, too."

"If you're looking for a connection, there is none. We got the killer three years ago, put him away. End of story." Linden sounds convinced… sort of.

"And now they're gonna execute him. I'm guessing you heard." Holder is watching her, and it is a little bit unsettling. He knows this is a risk. Even back then, during their last case together, talking about her previous big case had always left her visibly shaken… if she'd talk about it at all.

She returns his stare, but her eyes were shooting daggers at him. "What do you want, Holder?"

"I was thinking I'd take a look at your old case file, just make sure there's no connection between your crack ho and mine."

"Good idea, go for it." Her voice betrays her though, told him he wasn't going to get anywhere with it on his own. Clearly something is up.

"The thing is, the storage says the box is already checked out. And they don't know who took it." Holder has a guess, though.

"Yeah, but they're a bunch of idiots down there. They're always misplacing boxes. Just keep looking for it, you'll find it." Linden is now looking anywhere_ but_ at Holder. Guilty conscience? For having been a police officer, Linden had never been good at lying to Holder. Lying to herself? Yes. To Holder? No.

"I… have to go." It comes out as if she's making it up as she goes along, which doesn't go unnoticed. Holder exhales slightly, as if he doesn't believe her – because he doesn't. He stands up, and she follows his lead. They walk towards the door.

"You tell Little Man I said…" He demonstrates his signature hand shake salute, something that he and Jack always used to do.

"Mm-hmm, yep, sure."

"Lookin good, Linden." Holder walks to the door and starts to open it. This has gone just about how he expected it to… but he still has a trick up his sleeve.

"Hey, Holder." Holder turns around to look at her. "Not every victim's worth it. You know, you start _caring_…" She's forcing a smile onto her face and into her tone, but her words are coming out as anything but happy and _this_ smile is empty. Holder knows her to well to fall for that trick, even after so much time has gone by. "You'll end up like me working minimum wage on a ferry."

Holder is a little sad to hear her talk like that, and it shows in his face. He'd always so admired her dedication, but he knows that it was that dedication which had become obsession and had driven her over the edge. She has clearly worked hard to convince herself not to care in the year since he saw her. "Never thought the day would come I'd hear that from you." Without another word, he walks out, closing the door behind him.

Linden looks away, frowning. _Who am I kidding?_ she asks herself. She goes to the window and watches him leave.

That's when she spots the file he left on the table.

_Linden_

I'm glad Jack and Holder have kept in touch. Holder's a good influence on Jack, despite his bad habits. It's like somehow he manages to be a role model and a friend to him at the same time, and Jack could use both those things in his life. Then again, Holder's playfulness probably stems from the fact that he never really made it past about age fourteen, so that's probably a big part of why they get along so well.

I missed just chatting about nothing with Holder. The day that I walked away, I convinced myself I wouldn't miss it. I guess in my head at the time, it was all connected…? I didn't let myself think about it. Holder and the case were all wrapped up together, I couldn't separate them out and I just needed to get away from that case, so I had to leave Holder behind. But I see now that I have missed him. Despite all his stupid BFF jokes, he was my best friend. He _is_ my best friend. It was easy to see why he's my best friend even in that little sliver of time while we were just sitting there at my table today, having tea and talking about nothing. It was like we had seen each other yesterday. Holder was doing that stupid little boy "What's not to like?" Act… Before he brought work back into the mix.

I wish I could hang out with Holder… except that I'm afraid that somehow I'd end up sucked back into that life… and that I would like it. For all of his nonchalance, Holder does really care about the work. Maybe not quite the way I used to, or maybe it's just that he keeps a better grip on reality… I don't know. I got out once, but it was _really_ hard. Who knows if I'm strong enough to walk away again when faced with the temptation. And would I _want_ to walk away? Being a homicide detective is what I'm good at. What I'm doing now… who am I kidding? I'm just hiding.

As for this file that he left on the table… _Dammit, Holder_. He knows me too well, knows I wouldn't be able to resist this. Or… do I not even _want_ to resist it?

Holder

In all the time that we spent together on the Rosie Larsen case last year I never saw her smile like that, like she was doing just sitting there at the table with a cup of tea. Just from me teasing her, the same banter we always had, just without the stress of the case. It's so strange to see her actually happy, at least for that fleeting moment. I can see that she has missed me, even if she would never admit it. I don't think it's _purely_ my ego talking to say that... though maybe it is just a little bit. I'll be the first to admit, I've missed her. She was my best friend – not that there was competition for _that_ honor.

Working with Reddick is _not_ the same. How could it be? He's just a regular guy who works the job as a job. Not that there's something wrong with that, because that's what most people do. It's not a mark against him. Someone who cares as much about their job as Linden did, that's the exception to the rule, and it's totally related to all of the shit she's been through in her life. She's not one to let people in, not really, but Linden and I, we had a connection, an understanding. It was always just easy… not the work part, but more… I don't know. It was one of those things where you're just in the right place at the time and… I think everything happens for a reason. It's hard to remember, but I try.

I almost felt guilty for going there to see her, knowing I was sabotaging her… whatever it is that she's doing out there. Living tranquilly? Taking a new path? Or as it looks to _me_ like she's doing…. Hiding? I'd hoped that she had faced her demons during this past year, but it looks like she hasn't been ready yet. It looks like she has just been hiding from them. But who am I to say when she should be ready? Yeah, I'm sabotaging her hiding place, but maybe that's a good thing. I mean, I'm not the one to say what's right for Linden or anything, but it seems to me like if all she's doing is hiding, then maybe someone needs to find her. Maybe that's just Linden sabotaging _herself._ Not like she hasn't done _that_ many times before.

Maybe it's selfish of me, but I need her help. But even more than that, I've missed her.

…

Linden stood for a long time and stared at the file that Holder had left her. She was almost afraid to touch it, as if it might have some sort of magical powers that would suck her into the case as soon as it came in contact with her skin. If she was being honest with herself, it didn't need to have magical powers to suck her in. That was part of the problem. These cases were like her kryptonite.

There was not a cell in her body believed for one second that Holder had left it there by accident. Not only was Holder much more careful than that, but he also knew her much too well. He knew that if she started examining the case, something would click in her brain and she'd have more and more trouble _not_ thinking about it. That was how they'd ended up on the Rosie Larsen case together, after all. The case had come across her desk on her "last" day, which had happened to be his first day. She'd started the case and after feeble attempts to extricate herself from it, she had given up when she realized that it was no use. She knew herself and she had a feeling that this one would most likely follow the same pattern. If she picked it up.

She went to make herself another cup of tea, waiting by the stove for the water to boil, not trusting herself to stand and stare at the file. Once she had her tea in hand, she took a deep breath and sat herself at the table where she'd sat with Holder only a little while before. She looked across the room to see that the manila envelope was still there, taunting her. She sipped her tea slowly, trying to decide what to do. It seemed silly to her on one hand, how she was acting. It was _just_ a file folder. There was nothing that said that she _had_ to open it. She could throw it in the trash, for goodness sake!

Of course, she wouldn't throw it in the trash. That was Holder's case file, full of information that he needed. So she wouldn't throw it away. Of course! He'd need that file back. She could call him and tell him to come back and get it. But then he'd probably try something else to try to get her to talk about it. No, she could take it back to the station and leave it for him, sometime when the station was empty and she could slip in and out easily. Yes, that sounded like the better plan to her. The only question was between the picking the file up and the leaving the file for Holder, would she read it or not?

She had finished her tea by now, and she left her empty mug on the table. She got up and walked slowly toward the file, almost as if she wanted to sneak up on it without disturbing it. When she was about two feet away she stopped, again standing to stare at it. _It's just a folder_, she told herself before taking another step towards it. _It can't hurt you,_ she told herself before taking one final step. She was now close enough to reach down and pick it up. She held her breath and started to do so, pausing just before her hand touched it, just inches away. _Come on, Linden, stop being silly_, she told herself then, and her fingers made contact with it. She picked up the collection of papers slowly, not feeling any different.

She had decided that she wasn't going to open it, and then…

She sat at her kitchen table, setting the file in front of her. Who was she kidding? There was no way she was going to be able to resist, so she may as well get it over with. Taking a deep breath, she opened the file.


	33. Already Beautiful

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episodes 2 and 3

It's late, and Linden is still hard at work in the task force room. Besides the row of unis that sit at computers just in front of the doors, she's there alone. Holder walks by the glass doors and sees Linden sitting at the long table in the front of the room going over files. Never one to worry too much about his appearance, especially at such a late hour, his shirt is half untucked and his tie loosened as he lets himself into the task force room and walks slowly up to the table where his former partner is sitting. She looks up at him without speaking, then back down again at the files in front of her. He takes off his jacket and sits down at the far end of the table. Their greeting to each other is unspoken, unnecessary, as is so much between them.

Linden starts right in with an update. "We got 3 identified girls. Nicky Velasco, Ashley Kwon, Sandra Helford."

"Any matches with Goldie's porn?" Holder asks, leaning back in his chair.

"No."

Holder spins his chair back and forth, thinking for a moment.

Linden continues. "Nicky ran away when she was 15. Sandra, 16. Nobody reported them missing or even noticed they were gone. Throwaway kids, all of them."

"Not Ashley," Holder interjects.

"She ended up the same place though, didn't she?" Linden points out sadly. After a pause, she asks, "Where's Reddick?" She and Holder's current partner aren't exactly crazy about each other, to put it nicely.

"Punched out. Get his beauty sleep. Me?" Holder raises his hands on either side of him, "I'm already beautiful, so…" He grins his trademark little boy grin at her and Linden smiles back. _Classic Holder_, she thinks. Holder leans forward so his head is almost on the table, stretching his hands out in front of him but not reaching for anything in particular.

"Talk to Picasso?" he asks.

"We got nothing. I'm not even sure he remembered me," Linden replies.

"It was a long time ago, Linden." Both of his hands are now flat on the table and he's now leaning all the way forward, resting his chin on the back of his right hand, looking up at her.

_Linden_

Holder still reminds me of a little kid sometimes. He's softened a little around the edges since he started, and cleaned himself up a little bit appearance wise, but his sense of humor and that stupid grin still scream for attention. Approval. It's cute in a way, I guess. He's certainly less of a pain in the ass that everyone else around here. I feel bad for him that he got stuck with Reddick for a partner after me. God, that guy is an ass.

_Holder_

I'm not surprised to see Linden working late. No, I should put it like this: I'd have been _shocked_ if I'd walked by the Task Force room and I _hadn't _seen Linden working late. Linden being here after everyone else goes home is a given.

It's funny, working with her again, it almost feels like old times, like the Rosie Larsen case again. I'd almost forgotten how well we work together. I don't care what that dick Reddick says, Linden was a great partner. Hell of a lot better than his ass.

I wonder how Linden's handling this one compared to that one. She hasn't seemed as desperate over this one… so far, anyway. I swear, this case is related to that Picasso case she was on before I worked here… which sucks, because that's the one that drove her crazy in the first place. It sucks that she has to relive parts of it all over again.

…

Reddick, Holder and Linden stood outside of Lt. Skinner's office. Reddick was closest to the door, Linden about ten feet away from him, and Holder somewhere in the middle, fidgeting continuously, unable to stand still. Through the window they could see Skinner on the phone, pacing the length of his office as he listened, occasionally speaking loudly into the phone. He _did not_ look happy.

Reddick eyed Linden angrily. He wasn't quite sure how, but this whole mess had to be her fault. These kinds of screw ups just didn't happen on his cases. He and Holder had been working together for a year now and their cases had mostly been open and shut, by the book. None of this bullshit. And certainly not leading up to being called to Skinner's office to be chewed out, because he was certain that that's exactly what was about to happen when Skinner got off the phone.

Linden was tired of the looks that Reddick giving her from the other side of the hall. She looked directly into his eyes and took two steps towards him. "Reddick, you got a problem?" Her tone was more than a little antagonistic, which was exactly how she meant it to sound. She had long been used to being the only female homicide detective at the SPD, and she wasn't afraid of him, or any other one of the asshole cops that worked there – because some of those guys really were jerks.

"Maybe I do, Linden." Reddick answered in the same tone, his arms crossed over his chest.

Holder rolled his eyes at the two of them. In some ways they were so alike, it was almost comical, but in other ways, they were complete opposites. Linden, for example, didn't go out of her way to question Reddick's competence as a detective or his ability to do his job, or anyone else's for that matter. Holder had never heard her gossip about _anyone_. She just did her job. She actively tried _not_ to have anything to do with other people whenever possible, as a matter of fact.

Reddick, on the other hand, almost seemed to be obsessed with Linden's supposed incompetence at her job, which Holder found completely ridiculous. He owed so much of what he knew about this job to his former partner, and he knew it. Yes, she could be a complete pain in the ass, he'd never argue with that, but to call her incompetent? That's one thing she _was NOT_. Holder did his best to stick up for Linden when Reddick badmouthed her, but it wasn't easy to keep up with his partner's stream of consciousness complaints, and besides, Reddick obviously didn't want to hear anything good that Holder has to say about her. It was as though his mind was made up, and it wasn't going to change no matter what anyone said or did.

Holder wondered why Reddick felt so strongly against Linden. Yeah, she was abrasive sometimes, she didn't really care what anyone thought of her, and she pushed too hard sometimes when she should've just backed off… but those were actually qualities that Holder _liked_ about her. He knew that the best thing he could do was to ignore Reddick and his high school bullshit most of the time, but with the two of them now facing off right in front of him, he started to think that he may have to temporarily take a slightly more active role…

Linden took a few more steps towards Reddick, until they were only a few arms' lengths apart. "Oh yeah?" Linden almost spat the words at him. Holder swore that if anyone could breathe fire with their words, it would have been Linden, and it would have been right then.

"Yeah, Linden, my problem is you," Reddick said, matching her attitude and not backing down. As a matter of fact, he had now closed the distance between the two of them and was staring down at her – because she may have been menacing, but she was still pretty tiny compared to most of the guys in the department. Holder rolled his eyes again, unable to believe these two were acting this way. They were completely ignoring his feeble attempts at peacekeeping.

"Everything was easy before you came trotting back, and now, because of you, I find myself outside of Skinner's office. Because _you_ can't get your shit together."

Holder could see that this wasn't going in a good direction. He stepped forward and put an arm out in front of Linden to prevent her from stepping forward any farther. "Alright, you two, come on, enough already…" He pushed gently with his arm in an attempt to move Linden back a little and give them both a little more space.

That was the moment when Lt. Skinner's door opened and he appeared in the doorway. "I need to see you two in here," he said, looking from Reddick to Holder. "You too, Linden." With that, he disappeared back inside. Reddick shot Linden one more disdainful look and turned to walk into Skinner's office. Holder held his arm in front of Linden for one more second, whispering, " 'S not worth it, Linden." He dropped his arm to his side.

She sighed heavily. "I know, he's just such an ass," she whispered back. She looked up at him, and said simply, "Thanks."

"You know I got your back, Linden. Now let's see what kinda deep shit we're in," Holder replied quietly. They smiled at each other, and walked into Skinner's office together.


	34. I'm Driving

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 3

Reddick and Holder have just been yelled at by Skinner for what he perceived as a screw up in the investigation of "Goldie" and his porn videos – they had staked out Goldie's place and then chased him down, only to find that the "unidentified female" in the car with him was his mother. Skinner isn't especially pleased with Linden, either, since doesn't have any good news for him in the case herself. After Skinner leaves the room, they're all quietly processing what just happened. Linden and Holder move to stand facing each other, but don't say a word to each other. Reddick is hovering alongside them, though they're ignoring him. They're all quiet for a few minutes, until Linden decides to broach a new topic.

"I just talked to this girl, Tiffany, who was one of the porn actors." She's speaking only to Holder, as if Reddick isn't even in the room, and she's as direct and straight to the point as ever.

"She's alive, huh? There goes your 'find the porn maker, find the killer' theory," Reddick interjects.

Linden and Holder continue to look at each other, ignoring Reddick and his comment. Holder waits silently, knowing Linden well enough to know she's leading somewhere with this information.

"She says she can't remember the film-maker, but I don't buy it. I'm pretty sure they had some sort of relationship and I want to know who he is," Linden says, once again directly to Holder.

"But he didn't kill her. What's your theory about that?" Reddick is working very hard to be acknowledged in this conversation, but it's not working. The only thing he _is_ doing is pissing Linden off.

Once again, Linden completely ignores him, still talking only to Holder. "I got a feeling my girl knows more than she's saying. I want to have another go at her, and," she pauses, the words unfamiliar and uncomfortable, even bitter, in her mouth, "I could use your help."

Reddick is getting pissed off at her for ignoring him, like a little kid who thinks he knows it all but can't make his parents listen. "For God's sake, you know what?" He clears his throat. "You should go over that list of Johns arrested for beating up prostitutes. See if any of them has any connections to medical facilities. That'd be a better use of your time, wouldn't it?"

Suddenly, Linden is at her breaking point with this man that she despises so much. She wants to shut him up once and for all. She turns and speaks to him for the first time, asking bluntly "Carl, why are you still here?"

Reddick takes a drink of the coffee he's holding. "What?" he asks in surprise. After being ignored so many times in a row, he's surprised that Linden has suddenly turned to acknowledge him. He's not sure about that look in her eyes – it's definitely not friendly – and he's not sure what she's talking about. It's making him uncomfortable.

Linden continues to look at him with an icy glare. 'What are you _doing_ here? I mean really."

Holder is still facing Linden, looking down, while Linden turns to talk to Reddick. If Reddick expects his partner to back him up, he's going to be disappointed. The look in her eyes is truly frightening, and Holder's glad he's not the object of her wrath right now. But that's not why he's staying quiet. He's not afraid of Linden.

Linden suddenly reminds Reddick of a very dangerous animal who's been cornered, and he realizes that he's the one making that animal angry. _Not good_, he realizes too late.

Before he has time to think about it further, she continues quickly, her voice low and unfriendly, "Haven't you ever wondered why you never made Sergeant? I'll tell you why. Because 23 years of experience, and all you are is _in the way_."

And with that, Linden turns and walks away, out of the station and into the night. _This _was why she didn't ask for help. Holder had just stood there looking at her, and Reddick had acted like a moronic, attention starved five year old.

_I'll do it all myself. I'm better off by myself anyway_, she thought bitterly.

Slightly shocked by Linden's outburst and subsequent departure, Reddick looks at Holder, who still hasn't said a word through this whole exchange. "I'm talking to Skinner about her. She's going 5150 on us."

Still Holder says nothing, doesn't even look at Reddick. He can't believe that she just said all that to Reddick… Holder understands _why_ she did it – he understands Linden pretty damn well – and he knows that at that moment, he has a choice to make. He probably should have made it faster, but he was just so surprised.

Linden bursts through the door of the station into the parking lot. She lights a cigarette, then continues to her car. She's riled up from the confrontation with Reddick. _Such an asshole_, she thinks to herself. _And what the hell, Holder? He'd never even said a word, that entire time. Well fine, be that way. Fuck you, Holder! I didn't need you anyway._

She's still standing there fuming when Holder emerges from the station a minute behind her. "Yo, Linden." He crosses the parking lot, catching up with her at her car, where she's standing outside the open driver's side door. "I'm coming with you…"

She's glad to see him there, though her actions don't betray this fact. She's still mad at him, but relieved at the same time.

He adds his one condition: "But I'm driving." For once, she doesn't even care who's driving. She hands him the keys and goes around to the passenger side of the car without a word.

Because yes, she's still mad at him, but they always did make the best team, and if he's in, she's in.

_Linden_

"I could use your help."

Did *_I*_ really utter those words? Is this some sort of alternate reality? I'm sure I threw Holder for a loop, because I'm pretty sure I've never actually asked him for help before. Definitely not using those exact words, anyway. Hell, I shocked _myself_ by saying that! I can't remember the last time I asked _anyone_ for help. There is NOTHING I hate more than needing people. When you need people, it means they can hurt you… and people are assholes, and they usually _will_ hurt you. No, not usually. _Always_, it's just a matter of time. And leave… eventually, _they all leave. _Better not to give them the chance to do any of it.

I tried to ignore Reddick, but as usual he just wouldn't shut up. I didn't want to have to attack him, I tried not to, I just couldn't stand hearing his voice anymore, having him think that I gave a _fuck_ about what he was saying. _I was talking to Holder._ He's the only one whose opinion I care about, whose judgment I trust. Regardless of what the duty assignments are right now, Holder is my partner. He has been since we started the Larsen case together, back when I thought I didn't need or want a partner, when I thought that I was leaving anyway. He dragged me back into this world for this case, and he's the only one I can work with, the only one I'm _going to_ work with, no matter what Skinner says.

I really thought I'd made a mistake for a minute there, asking him for help. I couldn't tell if he was so shocked that he was speechless, if he was mulling over what I'd said, or what. Goddamn Reddick wouldn't shut up, so it was hard to tell what was going on. Holder probably felt like I was making him choose – Reddick or me, his current partner vs. his "former" partner. In a way, I guess I was, or I can see where it would seem like I was. Because Reddick and I were pulling in such opposite directions, Holder wasn't going to be able to play both sides, keep us both satisfied with his reaction.

I guess I kinda stormed out after I told Reddick off. I couldn't stand to look at his stupid face anymore… and it seemed like Holder was gonna just sit there and do nothing, not even answer me… I felt like the world's biggest dumbass. For asking for help, for _needing_ help… because I pride myself on _not_ needing help, not needing people. EVER.

I have to admit that I was glad when he followed me outside. I shouldn't have doubted him, I know… except I couldn't help it. You'd think after all this time, I'd know better… but I just can't help it.

_Holder_

_Holy shit,_ Linden just asked me for help! That took me more than a few minutes to process.

I always thought the odds were better that I'd be struck by lightning in the middle of an open field on a bright sunny day while snow fell down around me than live to see the day when Sarah Linden asked me – or _anyone, _for that matter – for help. She didn't want to, I could see that. She kinda paused before she said it, like the words tasted bad, or something. Come to think of it, to her they probably did.

As soon as Linden started ignoring Reddick, I knew I was going to have to choose a side. Reddick's not a bad guy, but he's a dumbass, really and truly. He seems to thrive on putting Linden down, whether it's to her or to me. I ignore most of it, but enough is enough. I know the code – about supporting your partner and all that shit – but I can't support him at her expense. No way. I understand where Linden's coming from, even when she pisses me off. I understand _why_ she told Reddick off, whether it was the right choice or not. And I could also see that that moment was where I had to choose, one of them or the other.

I don't like to be in that position, and ironically, I think they were probably both expecting me to make the same choice… Deep down I think Reddick thought I'd back him up – because he just really _doesn't_ get it – and I think Linden assumed I'd choose him too, because that's Linden. She expects _everyone_ to disappoint her, to screw her over, to _leave_…

And that's the biggest reason why I can't.

…

Tiffany's place wasn't too far, just across town. Linden stared out the window as he drove, not speaking to him, watching the lights on the houses and buildings that they passed. Holder knew that she was still pissed at him. He probably would have been pissed at him too, if he was her, he told himself. As well as he knew her, he should know that having told her in the past that he had her back, he could _not_ afford to look like he was breaking that promise.

"Linden, I…" he started, not sure exactly what he wanted to say.

"It's fine, Holder. I get it. I put you in a bad situation. It was my fault." She was still looking out the window, looking pissed despite what she had said.

"No, you didn't, Linden. And it wasn't your fault. Reddick was being a jackass, and I could've said _something…_" He glanced at her, but she was still not looking anywhere near him.

"Forget it, Holder," she sighed. She was glad he'd come after her, that would just have to be enough.

"Not until you hear me say it. I'm sorry, Linden. I don't want you to ever think that I don't got your back, because I do. That whole situation sucked, but there was never a question in my mind what I was gonna do… Okay? I'm sorry if I moved too slow for you to see that. Reddick's not a bad guy, but we both know he's an ass when he wants to be, which is most of the time. No question about it. Dunno why he has such a problem with you, but it's his problem." He paused and took a breath. "You an' me, we're BFFs. _Alright?_"

She turned away from the window and actually looked at him this time. Despite her determination to let the whole thing roll off her back, telling herself it didn't matter, she didn't care, what he said _had_ gotten through to her. She made the same face – a half grin, rolling her eyes – albeit slowly and against her will, that she did almost every time he used the teenage expression to describe their friendship. It always sounded silly, but when you came down to it, it was true. He _was _her best friend. "Yeah, okay," she conceded.


	35. Forgive Yourself

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episodes 3 and 4

Linden and Holder are back at the station, searching the police database for Joe Mills. The computers are running slow.

"So what'd you say to Carl, anyway?" Linden asks, referring to the "conversation" during which she'd asked for his help getting information from a source, Reddick had pissed her off and the entire time Holder had said nothing, even after Linden had told Reddick off and then stormed out.

"Nothin." Holder isn't exaggerating, since he had literally not said one word.

"He's gonna hate you," Linden tells him, surprised that he hadn't tried to smooth things over with his partner.

"Not as much as he hates _you_."

With a sigh Linden says, "I can't guarantee you're gonna make sergeant by working with me." She perches herself on the edge of his desk.

Holder leans back in his chair. "What makes you think I need your help?" Then he pauses, before turning the conversation back to work. "I hate to say it, Linden, but so far none of this porn stuff seems to lead back to Trisha Seward."

"I know." It's been bothering her, in fact. She knows there's something she's missing, and it's driving her a little crazy.

"If Seward didn't kill his wife, we're running out of time to prove it," Holder says, though they both already know it.

Now it's Linden changing the subject. The Seward case is a _very_ sensitive topic with her after everything she went through with it back then. "How we doing on Mills?"

Holder checks the monitor in front of him. "Searching…" he says, drawing out the word as if it were stuck in his mouth. They both look at the computer screen, hoping to find something useful there.

"What's up with that ADA anyway? You two a thing?" Linden's never one to ask about people's personal lives – except when it comes to Holder, in which case she is her usual self – blunt and to the point.

Holder looks up at her. "You jealous?" he asks quietly, playing with the word "jealous," as he utters it in a teasing voice. They both laugh, then look back at the computer screen. Just then the computer beeps, Linden gets off the desk and they look carefully at the screen.

"Son of a _bitch!"_ exclaims Holder. It seems that Joe Mills had been arrested the previous night at "Hotel Mama's," as he's calling it, but had been released six hours ago. It was time to get back to work.

_Linden_

I really hope Holder's not gonna have to suffer because of how Reddick feels about me. Not that I don't think Holder can take care of himself – he's a big boy and everything – but Reddick is stupid and petty and jealous and that just wouldn't be fair. Holder has worked hard for a year to shake off the stigma he ended up with after working the Rosie Larsen case with me. He's a good cop, despite some questionable decisions in the beginning – God knows I can't criticize anyone else for _those_. He deserves to succeed.

I wish working with me hadn't been so toxic for him. It seems like it doesn't matter what I do… at the end of the day everything I touch catches fire.

As far as whether I'm jealous of him and that ADA… _of course_ I'm not. He can be with whoever he wants to. It's not like I have any claim to him. We work together – we work really well together, but we're not like _that_. We're "BFFs" – that _stupid_ phrase – as he would say. We're just… _us_. That's as much as I want with _anyone_. It's more than I thought I'd ever _have_ with anyone.

I'm better alone, always have been.

_Holder_

Can't figure out why Reddick hates Linden so much. Been thinking about it ever since she came back, 'cause it's like he just loves to go on about her. Seems like he wants to prove something to me, prove that he's so much better at the job, better as a partner, better in general… he's not a bad guy, but he's a dumbass, insecure. I mean, as Linden pointed out, he _has_ been a detective for a lotta years without making Sergeant… that's gotta sting a little.

Seems like he's one of those people who's gotta put other people down to make themselves feel big. In some ways I guess Linden's an easy target. The only woman around, clearly has some emotional issues, to put it mildly… and pretty much everyone knows it. Still, there's something that screams _asshole_ about taking advantage of a person's weaknesses like that. Linden doesn't like to let on that it bothers her, other than to dish it right back out to him. She's no pushover. She has her walls built up pretty high, and she does a good job of attacking herself from _inside_ those walls. Still doesn't make it okay for Reddick to do it, though.

…

Linden had demanded to drive. It was the first time that had happened since she came back to work this case with him. Since he _brought_ her back to work the case with him. She was agitated right now, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently.

"What's wrong, Linden?" Linden had never been good at hiding her frustration. Holder had noticed that every time they talked to Callie's mom, who they'd just finished questioning again, this time about Joe Mills, Linden came away more and more agitated. Something about the woman was really pushing Linden's buttons.

She didn't answer him right away. They were on their way out to a scene on the road that Skinner had called them to, where some young driver, some kid, may have just seen the a girl fitting Callie's description run out of the woods, run in front of his car and then run back into the woods, with some guy chasing her on foot.

Linden had a particular way she worked a case, and it was clear to Holder that she was still in the "working things out in her head" stage of processing the new information they've been given. He knew that if she didn't talk about whatever was bothering her now, she'd tell him eventually, so he was okay with waiting.

Finally Linden had her thoughts together enough to articulate them. "She insisted her daughter wasn't missing for so long… Until it very well may have been be too late to _do_ anything about it. We could have _helped_ her, _found_ her, if she just would've helped us, and now it's probably too _late_. How could she _not care_ about where her own daughter was for _days_? It's so wrong that _we_ should care more about what happened to Callie than her own _mother_."

Holder exhaled loudly, totally understanding her frustration. Linden had almost lost it when Jack had been missing for one day, and understandably so. In their jobs they saw first-hand the horrible things that happened to kids, even teenagers, every day. He figured that the situation with Callie was hitting a little too close to home for Linden. She took these things personally, she always had, and it made her great at her job. She had this intuition about situations that he'd seen in few people, if anyone, but it also made the job very tough on her.

He didn't disagree with her, either. The way some people acted was sickening, especially how some people treated their kids. No, no one was perfect, least of all him, and he didn't have kids so he couldn't go around judging parents most of the time, but this kinda basic thing – kicking your kid out on the street, being told that your daughter was a prostitute and responding with, "It's a phase, she'll grow out of it," or not having a clue where your teenage daughter had been for days but insisting that she wasn't missing, so that the only people who cared enough to notice that something may have happened to her didn't have a shot at finding her – that was just criminal.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed in agreement.

"What's _wrong_ with people?" she hissed. He just shook his head in silence, gritting his teeth. "I may suck at being a mom, but even _I _know this kinda shit is wrong," she said quietly.

"We're gonna get the guy," Holder said reassuringly. He had no way of knowing if they'd find Callie – it wasn't looking too good at the moment – but one way or another he had confidence that they'd at least get to the bottom of who was responsible for all these girls going missing. After all, Linden was not one to let a case like this go. She'd fight to the end to get justice.

There was silence for a few minutes as they stared out the window at the scenery going by before their eyes, each lost in thought.

"For what it's worth," Holder began suddenly, pulling Linden out of her thoughts and back to the present, "I _don't_ think you suck at being a mom." Linden scoffed slightly, shaking her head. She was about to present evidence to disprove his assertion, when Holder continued. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying you'd win Mother of the Year…" They both chuckled at that. "But we play the cards we're dealt. You got a rough hand, and you've done your best. You both made it this far." Holder hesitated, knowing he was about to broach an even more sensitive topic, then added "Letting Jack go to Chicago doesn't mean you failed at being a mom, Linden. It was what he needed, and you did it even though it hurt you. That don't sound like someone who sucks at being a mom to me."

She inhaled quickly and continued to look straight ahead, thankful for the excuse of keeping her eyes on the road so that she didn't have to meet Holder's gaze. She felt herself blinking rapidly, willing the prickling sensation in her eyes to go away. It _almost_ worked.

"At some point, you gotta forgive yourself, ya know?" he asked simply.

He was watching her, and he knew that she was purposely not looking at him, but that was okay because he could see just from looking at her that she'd heard him. He knew that she had built so many walls to stop herself from getting hurt by people that someone saying something nice almost felt like a different kind of attack. He'd been there, too. It was hard to believe anything good about yourself when you were used to only believing the bad.

Linden's eyes didn't waver from the road ahead, but she nodded slightly and uttered "yeah," in a voice that was barely a whisper. Satisfied that he'd gotten through, Holder's went back to thinking about the case. They were both quiet for the rest of the drive, lost in their thoughts.


	36. Valentines Day

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 4

They're driving around, following up on the latest lead, a girl who apparently got away from the killer and was spotted on the road, then ran off into the woods again, being chased by a guy on foot.

"Hey, I talked to Jack for a couple of minutes a few days ago," Holder tells her.

"Yeah?" Jack's been in Chicago for a while now, but it's still a very touchy subject for Linden. She wonders why he's bringing it up.

"Yeah. He seems more chill about living in Chi-Town every time we talk. Seriously, like, every time."

Linden pauses before responding, then says, without any enthusiasm whatsoever, "Yeah, that's good."

"Yeah, he's doing real good, Little Man. He's _happy_."

"I know," Linden responds quietly. 

"You should. You know? So I hope you do." Holder's not sure why he's emphasizing it so much, but Jack had mentioned that he hadn't talked to her for a while, so he's trying to make a point.

Linden looks around, her face stormy. Suddenly she pulls the car onto a side street without warning or slowing down, screeching the times around the corner.

"Damn, Linden! Hey, heads up never hurt anyone," Holder calls out in surprise.

_Yeah, I could say the same thing to you,_ she thinks to herself.

_Linden_

I feel like he's rubbing it in, and it seems unnecessary. _Of course_ I want Jack to be happy. I would never wish anything bad for him, he's my son! But I would think that Holder, of all people, would understand how difficult it is for me to hear about it. To hear how happy he is _somewhere else_, how happy he is _without me there to screw up his life._ OK, he didn't say that. He wasn't trying to imply that, even _I_ know that. But do we _have _to talk about it?

I know that I need to call him. _I know_. I owe him a phone call. Things have been crazy. _I need to face it, things are always crazy_. It's no excuse.

_Holder_

Sometimes I totally get her, and sometimes I don't get her at all. Jack said he's been trying to call her, but that she doesn't answer and doesn't call him back. Granted, she's with me a _lot _of the time, but not all the time. I don't see her ignoring a lot of calls, or I'd definitely ask her about it.

In a way, I guess I get why it's hard for her to talk to him… because then she has to hear about how happy he is. I know that she _wants_ him to be happy, but of course it's more complicated than that. As much as she wants him to be happy, part of her hates to see it, because it makes her feel like more of a failure. Like she was the only thing standing in the way of his happiness before. And maybe in a way it's the truth, but it's not something she had a lot of control over. Things between them were way more complicated than that, always had been. But she doesn't see it that way. As usual, she takes on the entire weight of the blame.

I tried to tell her she has to let it go, to forgive herself… I know that she _heard_ me, but she obviously has trouble doing it. I just don't want to see her avoid Jack because she feels guilty and because it bothers her that he's happy there. They have enough problems without her letting this come between them. Nothing about their relationship is fair to either of them, and I don't want to see them get any farther apart. So I do what I can, even if Linden hates me for it for now.

…

Linden and Holder had just endured what was perhaps the world's _most_ awkward situation.

It was Valentine's Day, and Holder had forgotten completely. Unsurprisingly, so had Linden – not that she had any reason to remember. She'd missed the last ferry to Vashon Island, and had gone by Holder's place… to find him there with Caroline, that ADA with whom he apparently _was_ "a thing." Oh, how she had wanted to crawl into a hole right at that moment in the hallway of his apartment building when they both came to the door, rather than be there with the two of them!

They had invited her in, and Caroline had fixed her a plate of food. They were sitting in front of the tv and eating, when Caroline must have realized that the day was a lost cause. So she'd presented Holder with the special gluten-free, vegan cupcake and said "Happy Valentine's Day."

That was when the awkwardness had become unbearable. _Valentine's Day!_ Shit! Holder stammered out an explanation about how he celebrated Valentine's Day on the fifteenth, when it "wasn't so commercial." Linden wished desperately that she was anywhere but there, and wondered if she should leave. But mercifully, minutes later Holder's phone rang, and though he was going to ignore it – he'd already forgotten Valentine's Day, it was the least he could do – Caroline told him to answer it. So he did.

He and Linden had been called in to follow up on a tip from Bullet, who said she had a lead. So the two of them had left Holder's apartment together, successfully escaping the awkwardness and leaving Caroline alone on Valentine's Day. Holder felt guilty about that, but was glad to escape just the same. He felt guilty about _all_ of it.

As they got in the car, Linden once again in the driver's seat, they just looked at each other and shook their heads. "Youare in _so_ much trouble…" Linden said with a chuckle.

Holder rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I know, I know," he replied with a smile. It wasn't funny, of course, and yet… it was, as long as he could imagine that it had happened to someone else, and not him. _Not good, Holder_, he told himself. "But yo! It's not my fault! Aren't girls supposed to remind guys about shit like this?" he asked in desperation to find some way out. When he'd said "girls," he'd been talking about Caroline, not Linden, of course.

Linden just raised an eyebrow at him. "No, not _you,_ Linden. I was talking about Caroline," he said with a grin. It would never occur to him to suggest that Linden of all people should think about Valentine's Day. She just shook her head and gave him a wry smile.

"You know you're never gonna live this down, right?" she asked him. They were on the road now, and Linden found that for once, she wished she wasn't driving so she didn't have to face forward. She was rather enjoying watching Holder squirm, actually.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Holder replied, shaking his head and looking out the window. "Ya know, I'd say _you_ shoulda reminded me, but…" He didn't even bother to finish that sentence, chuckling at his own joke.

"Ha ha ha," she replied. "I'm glad you still have your sense of humor."

"Look at that, I had _two _dates this Valentine's Day…" Holder said with his typical false bravado.

Linden just rolled her eyes and shook her head, reaching over to smack him lightly with the back of her right hand as she drove. Holder was amazingly unconcerned for a guy who'd just deserted his girlfriend – if that's what she actually was – in his apartment on Valentine's Day to go off with another woman, even if it _was_ completely innocent and work related. But then again, it was Holder. That actually sounded _exactly_ how she'd expect him to act.

And then they were arriving at the their destination, Bullet was telling them that her source had seen a girl in bad shape being carried into an alley behind a vet's office, and the jokes about Valentine's Day were left behind.


	37. Waiting For You

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 5

Linden and Holder are outside the door of the apartment where the Sewards once lived, where Linden and Skinner's case had begun a few years back. They've just learned from Adrian Seward's adoptive parents that Adrian had had a habit of sleeping in a closet when he'd come to live with them after his mother's death, and Linden needs to see the whether the position of any of the closets in that old apartment would have given him a view of the killer on the night his mother was murdered. It's a long shot, but it's more solid than anything else they have right now.

So now they're in the dim, deserted hallway outside the apartment that had been the Sewards,' and Linden's picking the lock without a second thought. After all, it's the only way in, and when it comes to solving a case, there isn't much Linden wouldn't do, not many rules she wouldn't break. As for Holder, well, he's not exactly stopping her from breaking into the apartment himself. Holder is standing beside her, leaning his back against the wall and clutching the old case file to his chest.

"Just wanna point out, this is a Class-A Felony," he says nonchalantly. Linden ignores him, intently working to get the door open before someone tries to stop them. He cringes a little as she works less than gently on the lock with his knife. "Easy, yo. That knife cost me a 50-spot."

"It's defective," she says flatly as she works. Anyone else might have been offended by that comment, both the words and the harsh way that she said it.

Luckily, Holder's used to Linden and neither her comment nor her tone phases him. _Is his knife defective? Who the hell knows? Linden might just be mad that she can't get the door open. _Holder's not the type to let that kind of thing get under his skin. He's already moved on to thinking about the case. "Yeah, so I was thinkin, I mean, it's the same with all these girls. Like, either they're not seeing or they're not saying."

"So?" she asks without looking up from her work. _What the hell is he talking about, anyway?_

Holder stares down the dark hallway in front of him, deep in thought. "So maybe we're lookin at this whole thing inside-out. It's not about what these girls see. It's about what _he_ sees. What's he lookin for? How does he choose?" He turns and looks back at Linden, then continues. "See, we're been going at it all Copernicus, when we need to be Gallileo on this bitch, you feel me?"

Linden stops working and looks at him. _What the hell is he talking about now? _she thinks to herself. _That was completely random, even for Holder._

"See, Copernicus, he was, you know, like lookin at the sun doin its thing from this middle place, like he was the middle. But then Gallileo was all like, 'Nah, man, that's conceited.' And then Copernicus started frontin', like…"

He's not imagining it, Linden's definitely smirking at him now. No, it's more than a smirk. _I know about this stuff_, he thinks defensively.

She's pretty sure she's _never_ heard Holder say anything quite this crazy, and that's really saying something.

"What's wrong with your face, Linden? Don't stroke out on me. You know hire-backs ain't on the health plan." _She just can't appreciate my wisdom_, he thinks to himself huffily.

She's suppressing a laugh as she looks back down at the doorknob. _Holder really doesn't make any sense sometimes. _At that moment, Linden finally gets the door open.

"There we go," Holder declares, peering past her into the apartment, forgetting that he was pretending to be made at her.

The door creaks eerily as Linden slowly pushes it open. She looks inside the apartment with trepidation. She doesn't have good memories of this place, or anything related to this case, to put it mildly.

_Linden_

I'm just going to go in and look objectively at the layout. I'm not going to remember. I'm not going to think about all the rest of it. The drawing. The trees. The hospital. The…

I'm not going to think about anything except whether there's a view of the door from one of the closets. That's all we're here for, and it's the only way to know. This is our only lead right now, and I'll be damned if I'm going to ignore it because I'm uncomfortable. Which I'm not. I'm completely fine.

Because I'm _not_ going to remember.

_Holder_

Kinda wondering how Linden is holding up… she's acting all cool about coming back here, insisting on it, even, and even picking the lock herself, but it can't be the best place in the world for her to be… I mean, she don't talk too much about that case, but clearly it's a big deal. Couse, the fact that she don't like talkin about it doesn't mean much with Linden, cause she's not exactly talkative unless she actually _wants_ to talk about something. Which is mostly work. But even then, no guarantees.

I dunno for sure, but I assume that if it's something important she'll tell me about it – or, I'll _get_ her to tell me about it… eventually.

…

Linden pushed the front door of the station open with such force that it nearly collided with Holder, who was standing just outside it. She looked up at him, just as startled as he was, if not more so. "Sorry," she mumbled. Then, realizing that it was slightly odd that he was just standing by the door, she asked in her normal no-nonsense tone, "What're you _doing_ here?" Anyone else would probably have taken her tone to be unfriendly.

"Waitin for you," he said simply. When she looked at him in confusion, he continued, "You were in Skinner's office, and he seemed pretty pissed off. I know how he gets under your skin, so I figured you'd be flyin outta there, slammin doors, in five minutes or less," Holder responded self-assuredly with an easy smile. He consulted his watch, then looked up with a grin. "I was pretty much right on. _Damn_, I'm good!"

He was grinning that little boy grin again, the one that made it so hard to stay mad at him. Linden rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Shut up, Holder," she replied in pretend annoyance. She knew he was right, and she was even impressed that he'd thought it through that far. _Why did he have to understand her so well? _It really freaked her out that anyone did, and yet… there was also something comforting about it… in an uncomfortable way, if that made any sense – which Linden was pretty sure that it didn't.

Linden appeared to be lost in thought, which was usually a dangerous thing when she was in this mood. Holder watched her carefully for a minute, then decided it was time to pull her back to Earth. "So, what's your plan, Linden? I know you already got a plan." _Linden always had a plan, even when it wasn't a _good_ plan._

"I'm going back the prison to see Ray Seward," Linden said matter-of-factly. Holder raises an eyebrow at her, not having needed to have been in the room with Skinner just minutes before to know how he'd feel about that. Skinner seemed to think that everything they were doing that didn't involve looking for Joe Mills was a complete waste of time, and had told them so on multiple occasions. Unfortunately for Skinner, Linden and Holder weren't much for following rules or directives.

"Yeah, I know, Skinner's gonna be pissed," Linden said in response to the look on Holder's face. "_Whatever,_ I don't care what he thinks. The cases are connected, even if he refuses to see it. There's no doubt about it if you actually _look_ at the evidence." Holder nodded, not disagreeing with her. "I just need to keep digging. I'm_ going_ to get to the bottom of it."

"_We are_," he corrected her. "You want me to ride along with you?" he offered. He agreed that there was probably a connection there, and he knew that it wasn't just the Seward apartment, but the whole Seward case was more than just a sensitive topic for Linden. However, she shook her head stubbornly. He recognized the look on her face, and he knew without a doubt that it wasn't going to do him any good to argue with her as long as he saw that look. "Alright, well, call me if you need me."

She didn't quite smile, but the hard look on her face looked slightly less hard. "Yeah," she muttered, already walking to her car. Holder shook his head at her as he turned around. There were lots of times when that's all he could do when it came to Linden. He headed off in the other direction to hit the streets yet again, in search of a lead that would help them get to the bottom of their case. _Their case_, Linden and Holder's.


	38. What You Want

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 6

Linden and Holder are in the car, parked across from a basketball court. They're "keeping eyes on" Pastor Mike.

Holder puts a cigarette in his mouth. "If you light it, it's gonna start raining again," Linden tells him.

Holder considers this for a minute. "It's true," he agrees, removing it from his mouth and putting it away.

Linden leans her head back against the headrest, smiling slightly. "Jack still knows I smoke."

"Yeah, well, you ain't exactly Houdini with them smokes, Linden." Linden chuckles at this idea, and he joins in.

"He wants me to move to Chicago." She's staring straight ahead, her face emotionless, so he can't tell how she feels about that.

He stares calmly forward. "Chicago PD's a storied institution. It's good police. Cold as hell." He looks over at her. "What's holdin you back? It ain't that boyfriend of yours."

Linden turns to look out the window on her side, avoiding his gaze. "No, I'm just a hire back. Temporary police." She faces forward again, still not looking at him.

Holder chuckles at her. "Oh… you dodged that." He turns to look at her. _Alright then, the direct approach it is_, he thinks"So what's goin on with Mr. Boatman Cody?"

She shakes her head slightly, exhaling and looking forward.

"What? He hurt your feelings?" Holder says, only half joking.

Linden finally turns to look at him.

"I'll beat his _ass_. Just say the word," Holder tells her. He's kidding, mostly, but if it came down to it…

At that, Linden grimaces, looks forward again, and down toward her lap. "No, he got, uh, too attached, I guess." She glances out her side window, back into the space in front of the center console – towards Holder but not at him. "I didn't mean for that to happen, but I don't know, he's just a kid." There's the tiniest pause while she realizes that Holder is about to pounce on her last statement. "Don't even go there," she adds.

Holder chuckles like crazy, like the little kid that he acts like half the time. Linden looks over at him, smiling, the turns forward again, her smile fading as her mind drifts back to Cody. Holder's chuckles subside, but he's still smiling, looking down in front of him.

Linden is thinking out loud, which is rare for her. "I guess I wanted to be that person, you know, like, living on an island, working 9:00 to 5:00, not smoking." As she's talking, his smile slowly disappears as he listens to her, seeing that she's being serious. "But I…" She finds that she can't finish her sentence.

After a pause to consider what she's saying, once again staring toward the dashboard, Holder attempts to finish the thought for her. "Sometimes what you get isn't really what you want."

They slowly look over at each other, then away again.

"Where are those smokes?" Linden asks, rooting through the center console.

Holder's phone rings. "Detective Holder… What?... Thanks." He looks at Linden. "Report came back on the pastor. Mike Sheehan died four years ago."

Linden doesn't need to think too hard to figure this one out. "He's using a fake ID."

And just like that, Cody is forgotten once again. Linden's excuse for avoiding her personal life tugs at her again – work.

_Linden_

I wanted to be that person. Like I told Holder, the one who lives on an island – sounds peaceful, right? The one who works 9:00 to 5:00. Who doesn't smoke. Who goes running, because that's what people do, right? For exercise? For fun? I don't even know. So why couldn't I _be_ that person? That's what I wanted to be… so when I got there, to where I _thought_ I wanted to be, why couldn't I? Why didn't I want it anymore?

I always assumed that getting away from… _this_… - this empty life of chasing shadows – was what I wanted. _Hell_, how much of the Rosie Larsen case did I spend saying I was leaving, for something better? So… what's wrong with me? If _I_ can't even figure out what I want, then what's the point of all this? Why bother trying to be happy when apparently I don't even want what I think I want? When I get what I think will make me happy, I'm just as miserable. More so, really, because knowing that I was supposed to be happy and I'm still not… that was horribly disappointing. At least if I'm not hoping for anything, then I can't be disappointed.

If I can't even figure _myself _out, why am I trying to solve anyone _else's _problems?

At the same time, what else is there for me to _do_ but try to solve other people's problems? It's the only thing I've ever felt like I was good at. I sure as hell never had any hope of solving _my own_ problems. But for some reason this job is the one thing I _can_ do. The only problem is, it consumes me, so that there's nothing left of me _but_ the job.

But maybe that's the only part of me that's worth anything, anyway. Somehow I've already destroyed the rest.

_Holder_

Even though there are times when I understand Linden pretty well, sometimes I still wish I knew what was happening in her head. Sometimes, like today, I see the wheels turning but I just can't quite figure out where they're taking her.

I get that she wanted to try that whole "normal" thing. She felt like she missed out on it her whole life, it totally makes sense that she'd try to find it. What I'd like to understand is how to get through to her sometimes. Like, I watch her go to this dark place – I guess we all have them, but hers just seems… I don't know… lonlier? Lonlier than most people's. And I wish I knew how to get her back from there. I know those demons, and we're still pretty damn tight. I guess maybe when you know them, that's when you're most likely to recognize them in other people, to want to help them conquer theirs, even though you know that to a certain extent that no one can do that for you. That's something everyone has to do on their own.

At the same time, with no support it's just about impossible, which is the problem… she's convinced herself that she likes it that way – alone.

I wish I could get her to understand that she's not alone, not really… or, that she doesn't _have_ to be. It's a choice she's making, pushing everyone away, even though she doesn't see it that way.

Maybe someday she'll get it.

…

Linden pulled the car up in front of the station and Holder got in. Something was off with her, he could see it right away. It was the same kind of vibe she'd been giving off earlier when she was talking about that guy she'd been seeing, Cody. That hadn't been the first time, though. Linden was cryptic like that.

They were on their way to the train station, having just been told that Pastor Mike's car had been found there. It just seemed too easy. Things were _never _this easy in their cases, ever. Just like Holder could feel it about Linden, he could feel that something about this case was… off. They were missing something important.

Linden was driving, focused straight ahead but tapping the steering wheel repeatedly, unconsciously. "Skinner doesn't believe me," she said suddenly, her eyes never leaving the road.

"Believe you? About what?" Holder asked in confusion, turning to look at her.

"He doesn't think there's a connection between this case and the Seward case."

Holder sighed heavily. Linden's cases, he had learned, were always personal to her, and the Seward case had been especially so. "Linden, ya gotta admit, we don't have any evidence that connects the two…" He understood her frustration, and he believed that there _could_ be a connection, but he could also understand how Skinner needed evidence before he could do anything.

"I _know_ I'm right about this!" she yelled abruptly, pounding the steering wheel for emphasis.

"I'm not saying you're _wrong_. Just… Skinner, you know, don't worry about him. I think we're missing something big, but… _I_ got your back, ok? You know that, right?"

She didn't seem to be listening to him. "After everything, he should damn well be able to believe me…" she muttered under her breath, then glanced quickly at Holder.

He heard her, but he sensed that her last thought had slipped out accidentally, without her meaning to say it in front of him, so he decided not to ask questions.

"We're gonna figure it out, Linden. We will." He was sure of this, if for no other reason than the fact that Linden would never stop until they did.

She could see the lights of the train station in the distance, and for some reason it made her anxious. There was something they were missing, she just knew it. But what?

Holder had learned to trust Linden's instincts along the way. They sometimes steered her on the most random, round about paths possible, but if her gut was telling her something, chances were that it was right. The frustrating part was that all the evidence was telling them exactly the opposite. How could he rectify that? _What the hell was going on?_

She parked along the curb a short distance outside the perimeter of flashing lights. Before getting out of the car she looked over at Holder, who was still watching her closely. "We got this, Linden. Right? We're gonna get to the bottom of it."

She just nodded at him and took off her seatbelt, exiting the car and slamming the door in a last effort to release her frustration before they reached the rest of the officers who were there to deal with the discovery of the car.


	39. Just Hang On

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 7

On top of everything else, Linden is missing. Holder is at the station, feeling increasingly frantic. In another twenty minutes they'll lose their helicopter support for the search of the park. A voice over the radio tells them that someone with a Task Force ID number is parked on a radio channel, just broadcasting continuously. Holder can't believe it when he hears the broadcasting radio's number.

It's Linden.

He picks up a radio off his desk, changes the channel, and suddenly hears Linden's voice.

"…_know you're angry, but you need to think about your options."_

Holder turns around to the Task Force room. "Everyone shut up!"

"_Like what?"_ Pastor Mike asks over the radio. Talking continues in the background of the Task Force room.

He doesn't care what anyone thinks, he just needs them all to stop talking. _NOW. _"SHUT UP!" Holder screams. The room goes silent.

Pastor Mike is talking again. _"Beacon is gone. Everything I built is gone."_

"Linden's with the Pastor," Holder breaths. 

"When'd you last see her?" asks Skinner.

"With you, at the train station," Holder replies.

On the radio, Linden continues. _"You have choices right now. But if my guys find out you're pointing a gun at me, I can't help you anymore."_

_**Pointing a gun at her.**_Holder struggles to think straight. Then there's static on the radio. Holder had been leaning on the desk with both hands, over the radio. He pushes himself off the desk and walks a few paces.

"All units, this is Lt. Skinner. An officer's making an emergency broadcast on channel 7. All units, switch to L-Tac until further notice."

_Linden_

Breathe in, breathe out. Keep him talking. You can do this, you're trained for it.

Keep talking to him, keep the connection going. Breathe. Keep him talking.

Breathe. Don't think too much, just keep going. It's going to be fine. They're going to find you, _he's_ going to find you. Holder. He will. Just keep talking and buy some time, and give him as many clues as possible.

It's going to be fine.

_Holder_

Goddammit, Linden. Of course that's where you are. _Of course_ you're with the psychopath. Why would you be anywhere else?

Alright, keep talking, Linden. The radio was a great idea. Keep talking. Give me something to work with, something I can use. Dammit, come on Linden, just hang on.

…

Suddenly he knew where she was. "She's at the Biltmore Pier!" Holder exclaimed. The scene that Linden had just described to Pastor Mike had been the night that _he_ had been pacing on the median on the bridge, not sure of what to do or whether he should just walk out into traffic, just jump off the bridge… just be _done_ with it all, or if it was all worth trying again. But she'd shown up and ordered him to get back to safety on the sidewalk on the side of the bridge, and he so had, simple as that. Telling Pastor Mike that story of her "good friend," that was Linden telling Holder where she was. Pastor Mike was confused as to why she was telling him all that, but Holder wasn't. It was the break he'd been waiting for, and he was the only one who would have understood the clue that it was.

Holder grabbed his jacket and ran out of the Task Force room as the whole room scrambled to life around him. He tore down the hall, rounding the corner and almost colliding with several officers and one civilian who were in the middle of what appeared to be a serious conversation. Without stopping to apologize, without even a glance in their direction, Holder ran the rest of the way out of the station, nearly knocking over a newbie who was walking down the hall carefully balancing three cups of coffee, slowing only just enough to throw the doors open at the end of the hall so that he could get out of the building.

"Holder!" he heard someone yelling behind him. He slowed down only slightly as he reached the parking lot, looking over his shoulder to see Reddick attempting to catch up with him. Holder may not have been in the best shape, but Reddick had definitely fallen victim to a less than healthy lifestyle, exacerbated by stake-outs and far too many unhealthy snacks, and there was no way he was catching up to Holder unless Holder let him.

Holder, however, turned back around and sprinted for his car, cursing under his breath as the keys dropped from his fingers in the wet parking lot in his rush to find the correct one to open the door. By the time he'd seated himself and put on his seatbelt, Reddick had made it to the car as well, panting from the effort. He got in the passenger seat and closed the door only a fraction of a second before Holder threw the car into reverse, the tires kicking up pebbles, then turned the car around forward and raced out of the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"Jesus, Holder," Reddick said under his breath, still fighting to catch his breath. Holder didn't even appear to have heard him. He stared directly ahead, a scowl on his face. Reddick was taken aback by his partner's actions. They'd been partners for a year, and he'd never seen Holder react like this to _anything._ Yeah, he knew that he and Linden were close, though he couldn't figure out for the life of him why Holder'd want to be friends with someone who was as much of a goddamn pain in the ass as Linden. But this behavior? Okay, it wasn't every day that your friend was found out to be with a psychopath so it was hard to compare his actions to anything. Still it seemed a little bit extreme. Maybe he'd misjudged something between the two of them along the way…

Reddick glanced at the speedometer, which was reading well above the speed that even police officers general drove at on this particular road. He clutched the handle on the car door. "Holder, we're not gonna get there if we crash on the way," he muttered, wondering why he was bothering since Holder didn't seem to be listening to him anyway. He glanced at Holder's face, which was as unreadable as a statue as he stared straight ahead, looking away from the road only for a second at a time to check his mirrors. This wasn't the Holder he knew, this person was far more intense.

Holder was muttering something. At first Reddick thought he was talking to _him_, then realized it was more like something he was chanting to himself, almost a mantra. He strained to make out what exactly it was that Holder was saying before he finally caught it. Holder was repeating the same thing over and over, under his breath. "Come on, Linden… Come on, Linden… Come on, Linden…"

It wasn't a secret that Reddick didn't like Linden, never had in all the time he'd known her. He knew that most people at the station didn't either, with the possible exceptions of Ray and Holder. He'd also heard that she and Skinner had had a thing going on back when they'd been partners, years ago. Still, the point was that she wasn't popular. She was abrasive and seemed to completely lack social skills. Not that he wouldn't have gone along with the others to look for her now that they had a solid lead. She was a cop, after all, and one of their own. But what he was seeing from Holder right now? He didn't understand it, not one bit.

"Fuck!" Holder yelled vehemently as traffic came to a halt up ahead. He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel, hard enough that Reddick imagined that it had probably hurt. Traffic cleared, but only gradually, as the drivers seemed to just have noticed the lights and sirens of the police convoy behind them as they made their way to Biltmore Pier. "Come on, come _on!_" Holder growled at the cars ahead of them.

_Please don't let it be too late,_ Holder begged silently as his destination _finally _came into view. He barely took the time to shift the car into park before he jumped out, surrounded by numerous marked police cars, officers spilling from their doors and leaving their lights also flashing. It would have been clear from across the water that something was happening, with all of the lights.

In the fog at the end of the pier he could make out two shapes sitting upright. _Thank God,_ he thought, but knew it wasn't over yet. Still, at least they weren't too late… not yet anyway.


	40. Better Alone

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 7

Sirens wail in the distance. Pastor Mike is sitting down beside Linden on the pier. He has already thrown his gun in the water, it will only be a matter of minutes before he's arrested. The sirens close in, and Linden takes deep breaths. _It's over. I'm safe. _Officers approach from behind them. Fog has suddenly rolled in and everything is obscured, making the water in front of them all but invisible. Many, many officers close in on them, yelling for him to put his hands up.

Linden starts getting up slowly, her hands raised partway, as Pastor Mike remains sitting on his knees a few seconds longer. She stands upright fully, turning to face her fellow officers, as he begins getting up. She turns around to look at him. "Get your hands out of your pockets," she tells him.

Holder is now standing front and center with the officers that have their guns trained on Pastor Mike. He looks scared, she notices.

"Get your hands out of your pockets!" one of the many officers yells.

"Get your hands out _or they'll shoot you_!" Linden whispers harshly to him.

Pastor Mike is still facing the water, standing but with his hands in his pockets. Linden spreads her arms, stepping in front of him to block any shots they're thinking of taking. "He doesn't have a gun! Don't shoot him! He doesn't have a gun!" Linden yells to the others

"Take your hands out of your pockets!" This time it's Holder. He can't relax until this maniac is in custody.

Linden turns to Pastor Mike, still standing in front of him. "You make these men shoot you, they'll carry it all their lives," she pleads.

"Get out of the way, Sarah." _Holder never calls her Sarah. EVER. _She couldn't remember him doing it even once. Did that mean something?

Linden's still standing in front of him, her hands in the air. "He doesn't have a gun."

Pastor Mike slowly takes his hands out of his pockets, as if in slow motion, and raises them in the air. As soon as he does, Linden steps quickly to the side and officers descend on him. Holder pushes him to the ground and pulls his hands behind his back, handcuffing him. "Check that he's secure," an officer orders.

Linden is standing off to the side, breathing hard, watching the scene unfold. Reddick and another officer pull Pastor Mike up off the ground and lead him away.

"Let's go," Reddick tells him gruffly as they walk away.

As if only now fully grasping that the ordeal is over, Linden suddenly begins shaking and crumples to the ground, leaning an elbow on her knee and resting her head against the palm of her hand. Holder walks over slowly but purposefully to sit beside her. He just watches her for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

She's sitting beside him, shaking. Normally he wouldn't get anywhere near her – he knows better – but this isn't _normally._ Finally, still sitting far enough away that there's space between them, he reaches across her back and puts his hand on her far shoulder, squeezing gently, rubbing it slightly, then squeezing it again.

"You ok?" he asks her gently.

Linden just nods her head. She will be.

_Linden_

Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It's over. You're safe. It's okay, just like you knew it would be. Holder did it, he found you. He came through. He's still right there, right next to you. Don't push him away like you do to everyone in your life. He cares about you – you _know _he does, even if you don't want to admit it. You don't have to push him away, like you do to everyone else.

_I'm talking to myself as if I'm two separate people. Who does that? I'm giving myself advice? This is just weird. It doesn't even sound like something I'd SAY…_

Maybe not, but it's something you need to hear, so shut up and listen.

_Okay, whatever… Holder called me Sarah_._ No one who actually knows me calls me Sarah, except Regi._ _What did it mean that he called me Sarah that time? Something? Nothing? It's so confusing…_

…

"Hey Linden, come crash at my place tonight." They were sitting in the car outside the station, the two of them, but Holder hadn't made a move to leave. He'd offered her a cigarette, but she'd turned it down without even a second glance. She was just staring out the window. He couldn't tell if she was lost in thought or just plain traumatized. Maybe it was some of both. He was relieved that they'd gotten to her in time, but he was still worried about her. There was no way to gauge what a _normal _reaction would be in this situation, but she just seemed too… calm. Distant. It was scaring him a little bit. He'd feel better if he could at least keep an eye on her…

"No thanks, Holder, I just wanna go home," she'd insisted without looking at him. Still staring out that damn window.

"Seriously, Linden. I promise I'm not hitting on you or nothing. Scout's honor." That made her turn and glance at him, a hint of a smile creeping slowly across her face. Taking that as a cue, he pushed a little farther. "I mean come on, I got a girlfriend. Besides, far as _I_ remember you're the one who showed up at _my_ door last time."

She rolled her eyes at him then, shaking her head. "Shut up Holder," she replied, looking at him for the first time in the last ten minutes. He grinned, happy to see a flash of the same old Linden. "When did you become a boy scout, anyway?" she added.

"I could be a Boy Scout, you dunno," Holder insisted, pretending to be insulted. Linden chuckled, and Holder joined in. "Okay, so it's a stretch…"

Linden returned her gaze out the window, her smile fading. Holder started the car and put it into reverse, then eased out of the parking lot and onto the streets of Seattle.

"So, just drop me off at my car, okay?" She paused, thinking about the fact that she had driven her car, with Pastor Mike in it, to the pier. He saw the look of panic on her face for just half a second before she turned to look out the window again.

"No dice, Linden. I'm sure they're gonna be processin' it for evidence for a while. I'm drivin' you home," he said in no uncertain terms. On that he wasn't taking no for an answer.

She sighed, glancing out the window, then back at Holder. She wanted to be annoyed, and yet… at the same time she was glad. "Fine, but only because I have no choice," she said. Her words said she was annoyed, but her tone was warm. He just shook his head at her, keeping his attention on the road ahead. She really was a piece of work.

They didn't exchange much more in the way of small talk during the rest of the drive to Linden's house. They were both pretty exhausted, and they were comfortable enough around each other that they didn't feel like they needed to chat constantly. Holder pulled up in front of Linden's house and if he didn't know better, he'd say he thought he saw her tense slightly. He still didn't like the idea of leaving her here alone, but this was her house, and she was an adult. There wasn't much else he could do.

"You need anything?" he asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Nope, I'm good." She paused, then took a breath and said "Thanks Holder. For… you know… everything." Her smile then would have been considered slight for most people, but for Linden it counted as a big smile. She glanced down, then up at him again, and he could tell she wasn't just talking about the ride home. He knew it was a "big thank you," even though he knew she didn't want him to make a big deal _out of_ it. He decided to play it off as normal.

"No problemo, Linden. You know I got your back," he gave her the same little boy grin as usual. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as usual, but she was looking tenser and tenser to him. His gut was telling him that she wasn't okay, no matter how hard she was trying to pretend that she was. Suddenly he had an idea that would both allow him to drop her off now, but also check on her later, so he felt a little better about leaving her there.

Linden got out of the car, closing the door and smiling at Holder through the window. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and walked slowly up to the door. She could feel him watching her, and she tried as hard as she could to pretend that she didn't feel as tense as she did about being home alone right now.

_I'm better alone_, she repeated to herself as she had a million other times in her life. _I'm better alone_, she repeated as she walked up to her door, as she unlocked the door, as she closed the door behind her. _I'm better alone_, she repeated as she took off her jacket and set it on a chair, as she sat down on the couch. _I'm better alone_, she repeated as she stood up again almost immediately and walked cautiously from one room to the next, as if her house was a crime scene that she was attempting to "clear."

_I'm better alone_, she repeated to herself as she ended up back in the living room, turning on the tv just to have some noise in the background. _I'm better alone_, she repeated to herself as she tried not to jump at every creak and squeak that she heard in her quiet house, as she tried to drown out the voice in her head that told her she didn't want to be alone. _I'm better alone_, she repeated to herself as she chewed on her bottom lip and tried desperately to believe it.

But she didn't.

She was still fighting this battle with herself an hour later, when there was a knock on the door.


	41. I'm Fine

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 7

Linden's sitting at the table with Holder, eating the Chinese food that he showed up with at her door (or _inside_ her door, to be precise, since she'd left the keys in the keyhole and he'd let himself in). Without looking up at him, she says, "Thanks for the takeout, nice of you to do that."

"Yeah, well, you are welcome. I needed an excuse to get out of there anyway."

Based on the fact that it has been about an hour since he dropped her off at home, she doesn't believe that he actually went back to the station, but she lets it go. She chuckles as she says, "If one more person asked me if I was alright… I swear…"

Holder looks down at the table, then pulls his eyes back up to her without moving his head. He wants to know the answer even more than the rest of them. Quietly, almost cautiously, he asks, "Well, _are you_ alright?"

Linden is caught off guard. She glances up at him from her food, where she'd been concentrating her attention, but finds that she can't hold eye contact with him. She looks down, and then up at him again for a second, finally letting her eyes rest back on her food before answering. She replies simply, "Yeah, I'm fine." It's clear to him that she _isn't_ okay.

_Typical Linden_, Holder thinks. _She really is a terrible liar_. He wonders if she actually _believes_ that she's fine, or if she's just saying it, as he watches her eat. She doesn't look back up at him.

He isn't sure how to tell her how relieved he is that she's safe, he only knows that he needs to tell her. After only a slight hesitation, he just goes for it. "Thought I lost you there for a second," he begins.

Linden looks up at him, surprised.

"Just when I was getting used to you," Holder continues.

They look at each other for a few seconds without speaking.

Holder's at a loss for what else to say, finally settling for, "That was scary, huh?" They're still looking at each other. He's not sure exactly what he's expecting her to say or do, but he doesn't want her to just brush this aside and pretend that it was nothing. Because he knows her, he knows that she shuts everyone out to deal with things that bother her, himself included. She probably won't talk, he knows, which is okay with him as long as she's listening. But he's pretty sure that she needs to talk about it, if she can manage it.

They maintain eye contact for about ten seconds more before Linden looks away and exhales sharply, but still doesn't respond. She looks back down at her food.

Holder continues to wait, and his patience is rewarded a minute or so later. "I couldn't see him, you know?" Linden glances up, then back down. "Just his eyes in the mirror. And his voice."

Holder watches her carefully, though she's not looking at him.

"I kept thinking that this must've been what it was like for all those girls. How alone they must have felt. Just his eyes…" Her voice cracks then, and he wishes he could do _something_ for her besides just listening. "…You know, looking at them. Knowing that that was the last thing they were gonna see." She takes a deep breath and sighs, putting down her chopsticks. "Only it wasn't him." She's exhausted from the effort required to say just those few sentences, and she feels as defeated as she looks, still staring down at the table in front of her.

The look on Holder's face is one of frustration. "I should've got there sooner," he says seriously. It's all he can think about, how he somehow should have stopped this ordeal from happening to her.

Linden finally looks up again. She wonders why he's feeling guilty, when he's the one who figured it all out. She's still having trouble understanding why he looks so shaken over something that happened to _her_, of all people. She's not used to anyone caring that much. "You got there. You found me."

They look at each other again and she smiles slightly. He looks at her seriously, leaning forward and sighing. It's as though within a minute, they've traded and he's the one who's upset and she's trying to console him. _What a pair we are_, Linden can't help but think.

_Linden_

When Holder asked me if I was alright I just… I mean how many people had asked me that already today? Fifty? Could've been more. I have no idea, really. Probably everyone in that damn department, some of them a whole bunch of times. I answered them all the same way. "Yes, I'm fine." Sure, I went through something terrifying, but I wasn't hurt, and the rest of them seemed to take me at my word.

The scary thing about Holder asking me the same question is that he knows me well enough not to believe me when I say I'm fine… or he _thinks_ he knows that, anyway. But if I tell myself I'm fine, then I am. Or… maybe I'm _not_ right now, but I _will be_. I mean, what choice is there, right? Fall apart? I don't _do_ that. I keep going like I always have. I've gotten this far, haven't I? And I'm _fine_. I don't need anyone. I can deal with this. I always have before, after all.

The way he was looking at me, though… That look on his face… that's the look of – what? – someone who cares, I guess… Not like I'd know. It kinda made me uncomfortable. I mean, what was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? Tell him that I'm not okay? Because I _**am**_. I am okay. If I tell myself I am, then I am, right? I've been through worse, it's not a big deal. It's sweet that he cares, it really is, but I'm better alone. It's safer that way.

_Holder_

Linden is so frustrating sometimes. It's so damn obvious that she's not okay, and yet she insists that she is. _How could she be, after something like that?_ No one would expect her to be okay. I don't know who she thinks she's fooling… no, I do, actually. Somehow, she seems to be fooling _everyone._.. everyone but me, that is. She's tough as nails and she's obviously worked hard to prove to the rest of the guys that she's not some needy chick – which makes sense, because how else could she get them to take her seriously at work? I guess what it comes down to is they don't know her, so it's not such a big surprise that they take her at her word. It's easier for them that way, one less thing to worry about.

Still, I don't know how they don't see it. It's so obvious to me, I don't know why she bothers to lie. Maybe it's just habit, I don't know… Maybe she doesn't want to admit to _herself_ that she's not okay. She sure as hell works hard to push people away from her. But what she doesn't seem to realize is that it won't work, cause I'm just as stubborn as she is. Whether she likes it or not, I care what happens to her.

Just gotta keep my eye on her, I guess. Not that I don't do that anyway.

…

Holder was sitting on his couch, watching TV with Caroline, when his phone rang. He glanced at it on the coffee table, and was going to ignore it when he saw from the display that it was Linden. He frowned. Linden had said that she was fine when he'd finally left her place. Not that he believed her, of course. She'd _seemed_ like she was doing better than she had been earlier that day, anyway. She'd been through hell in the past twenty-four hours. He wondered why she would be calling, especially since he'd taken the Seward file with him when he'd left. He reached for the phone tentatively and Caroline looked at him. He'd told her what was going on with Linden.

"It's Linden," he told her. She nodded.

"Go ahead, answer it. Make sure she's ok." She smiled at him as he reached for the phone, but there was something behind her smile. It didn't look like jealousy, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Hell, maybe it was nothing. He was no damn good at figuring out women.

He picked up the phone and stood up, walking into the bedroom so he didn't have to talk over the TV. "Yo, Linden," he answered. "What up? You okay?"

"Hi… uh, sorry to bug you Holder," came Linden's voice through the phone.

"You ain't buggin me, just watchin some TV. Somethin about the animals of the Amazon rainforest," Holder replied with a grin. "There'll still be there later… well, at least for a few weeks I guess, based on how we treat our natural resources."

At the other end of the phone, Linden rolled her eyes. From looking at him you'd never think Holder would be the type to be into Discovery Channel type shows, but Linden had learned that Holder liked "all that shit," as he'd so elegantly put it.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?" Holder now asked. She could hear the little boy grin through the phone.

"I… uh… just got a phone call from Ray Seward," Linden began, closing the dishwasher and surrendering to the fact that she was not going to finish the dishes right now. She'd been working on them when Ray Seward had called her and she had stopped to pace back and forth. "He begged me to help him, Holder. He said he could get me in to talk to Adrian. I don't know what his plan is for that, but… I don't know. I just feel like I have to _do_ something. I can't just let him die."

Holder sighed. Even years later, Linden was consumed by the Seward case. Holder didn't know what he believed about it. He hadn't even been with the SPD back then, but even before he'd seen the case file, he'd heard enough about the case from Linden that he almost felt like he _had_ been around back then. Knowing Linden as he did, it didn't surprise him in the least that she would work herself to the bone to try to find out the truth about this case, especially now that Seward was set to be executed and she had her doubts about his guilt.

"And I'd never expect you to do nothing, Linden. You always give everything you got and then some. What do you need? I'm gonna take another look at the Seward file right now, see if anything jumps out at me, okay? That make you feel any better?" He paused and pictured her staring hard into space, deep in thought, as she often did. "You got any new theories you wanna discuss?"

Linden sighed. "No, nothing new… I just… I'm missing something, I know it." She sighed again, and Holder shook his head. This woman really did like to torture herself.

"Right then, Linden, you do what you do best and let that brain of yours digest all the knowledge you got, 'n I'm gonna look at all this and then call ya back in an hour or so. I'd tell ya to get some sleep, but I got a feeling that's a lost cause."

"Haha," Linden replied dryly, but he could hear the smile behind it. Then she added, "Thanks Holder."

"You got it, Linden. Go do your thing. I'll talk to you a little later."

"Yup. Bye."

"Adios."

He walked back to the dining room table, where he'd left the Seward file. Caroline looked at him as he spread it out, watching him from the couch.

"Linden okay?" she asked.

"Yep, she's stressin about Ray Seward. Promised her I'd take a look at this and see if anything pops out at me. Sorry, babe," he replied without looking up.

"It's okay. I'm gonna go to bed anyway," she said, getting up from the couch. She walked over to where he was standing, the photos from the file already strewn around the table. "You're a good guy, Stephen. Don't stay up all night, okay?" she requested gently, kissing him goodnight.

He kissed her back, but he was obviously distracted. She let it go. If he'd been looking at her, he would have seen the same look in her eyes that he had noticed earlier that he hadn't been able to identify, that had been on her face when Linden had called. It still wasn't jealously, it was a different kind of knowing look.

He was already lost in thought as she disappeared down the hall. All he could think of was finding something that would help Linden get to the bottom of this mess.


	42. Come On

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 8

Linden is in the hallway outside Danette's storage locker when she hears Holder over the police radio, saying they found Joe Mills' cab on the ground floor.

"Think he's got another body in the trunk. We found blood all over the bumper," Holder says.

Linden turns immediately and starts running down the hall as if the floor is on fire. She has only just realized what Holder's going to find inside the trunk, and she desperately wants to spare her friend the pain of being the one to discover it.

"DON'T OPEN IT!" she screams, though he can't hear her from there. "Excuse me!" she calls as she pushes past the people in the hallways. "Coming through."

Downstairs, the unis are having trouble getting the trunk open. One of them says that it's stuck. Holder pulls a sheet off the front of the cab while Linden runs as fast as she possibly can to try to stop Holder from opening the trunk.

One of the unis is attempting to pry the trunk open with a crowbar. "Give me that thing," Holder tells him. He's determined to get the damn thing open. As he does so, Linden runs furiously down the stairs. Holder uses the crowbar to smash the driver's side front window instead, then leans inside to release the trunk. He leans back out of the window slowly, to avoid the glass, and stands up.

Linden is still yelling, more and more emphatically the closer she gets. "HOLDER! STOP!" _I have to get there in time_, she thinks. "Move! Coming through!" she tells the people between her and Holder as she runs through the crowd.

"Don't open the trunk!" she calls to him as she rushes forward. She stops a few car lengths away as he walks back toward the trunk, which is now ajar, Holder having released the latch from the front seat. He's almost next to it and doesn't have to move far if he wants to look inside. Linden's panting from the exertion of running all the way to the ground floor. They look at each other, her eyes pleading with him to walk away.

The look on Holder's face reflects the confusion he feels at Linden's vehement warnings. "What?" He knows it must be something serious just from looking at Linden's face.

"Just come over here," she tells him, praying that he'll comply without questioning her, despite the fact that doing so wouldn't be at all like him – or like her either, really. Holder turns to look at the trunk lid, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Please, Holder. You… you don't need to be here." She's pretty much begging him to walk away now. He knows that he should probably listen to Linden, she must have a good reason for acting so freaked out… and yet, he can't. He looks alarmed, looking back and forth between her and the still mostly closed trunk.

"Holder, _please don't_."

He slowly lifts the trunk lid, which creaks loudly. He freezes in place, just staring. She comes to stand beside him but doesn't look in the trunk, instead turning to look at him. Only after she's studied his expression and tried her best to stand in front of him, then moved back to the side when that doesn't work, does she turn to look inside.

They recognize the word "Faith" and the heart with wings on Bullet's wrist.

_Linden_

Just this once, I wanted to spare him from the gory details. The two of them had gotten close, surprisingly close in the short time we've been looking for Callie. He saw something in her, I could tell. She annoyed the hell out of me, but she was a good kid. Holder had some affinity with her though, it was obvious. He wanted to save her from the life she'd ended up in… of course, we wanted to save them _all_ from themselves, but you can't force those kids to make better choices, they have to make them for themselves… all you can do is give them better options to choose from.

Bullet had a good head on her shoulders, she was just in a bad place. But if any of 'em had a shot of making it, I thought it was her. _CRAP_. Poor Holder, he's not gonna take this well.

_Holder_

_Breathe, Holder. In and out. Focus. Focus on breathing, on staying upright. Breathe._

…

Holder was staring into the trunk in horror. Linden looked too, but after identifying Bullet by the picture on her wrist, she couldn't bear to look at her mangled body anymore. She grabbed Holder's arm, a rare gesture for her, and tugged on him. He didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from the girl in front of him.

"Holder," she said firmly, knowing that it was her turn to be the strong one, "Holder, come on. Come with me." He didn't move, but she could feel that he wasn't resisting with all his strength, so she tugged harder. "_Holder," _she repeated, louder this time, "look at me." He turned his head slowly, then his body, as if he were moving in slow motion, until he was facing her. The way he was looking down at her, she felt as though his gaze might actually be going straight through her. He was staring directly at her but didn't seem to see her at all.

The unis stood around, ready to move in but waiting at a respectful distance until the two were clear of the scene.

"_Holder_," she repeated, firmly but gently at the same time. It was as if it was the first time he noticed that she was standing in front of him. She could see that she finally had his attention, or she at least seemed to. "Come on," she said in a voice just above a whisper, pulling his arm and guiding him away from the gruesome scene. This time he didn't resist as she led him to the wall, which he leaned against heavily, pushing his right arm and shoulder against it so that he faced away from the taxi. His breathing was shaky.

Linden released his arm but stayed planted directly in front of him, looking up at him with concern. His eyes had fallen closed and his head had dropped to his chest. He seemed to be concentrating pretty hard on breathing.

"Holder?" His eyes opened slowly and he raised his head just enough to look at her, which wasn't much since she was so much shorter than he was. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all. "Let's go. Let's get out of here," she said. He didn't move, just stared at her blankly. She sighed, her heart breaking for him, and she reached out slowly and grabbed his arm again.

It was hard to see him like this, so clearly in pain. "Come on, Holder," she said, pulling him gently but firmly away from the taxi and towards the exit that opened out onto a wide hallway, which in turn led to the main doors of the building. Once outside, she steered them to where they'd parked their patrol car. She was almost afraid that if she let go of him, he'd simply stop moving, as if the inertia of her movement was the only thing propelling him forward. She managed to get him into the passenger seat of the car – he got himself in willingly, if somewhat robotically – and situated herself in the driver's seat, as usual.

She looked across the front seat at him as he stared out the window. "Holder?" She knew she should leave him alone, but his silence was unnerving her. She'd never found quiet between them unnerving before this, but this time it was almost unbearable. Still, she couldn't come up with a single thing to say. There was _nothing_ she could say that would help whatsoever.

He looked at her then, barely turning his head. She _thought_ he seemed to be focused on her… but it was hard to be sure.

"Thanks, Linden," he whispered.

She smiled sadly, nodding her head ever so slightly. "We've gotta go to the station. You up for it?"

He nodded back at her without a word, knowing that it was part of the procedure. Linden had had to go in after having been _kidnapped_, for god's sake, so of course they had to go in and handle the paperwork. He tugged his seatbelt across his chest as she did the same to hers, and she started the car without another word.

She glanced over to see that Holder was now staring out the passenger side window blankly, and she shook her head as she put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street. The unis would handle this part. She figured she could fill out all the paperwork for both of them, if necessary, since they'd been there together, but that Skinner would expect him to at least be there to put in an appearance and answer questions.

She maneuvered the car through the city streets, and finally pulled up in front of the coffee stop down the block from the station, where they frequently ended up, at all hours of the day and night. She shifted the car into park and looked over at him, but he appeared to be lost in his own world. "I'll be right back, okay?" He didn't respond, so she just removed the keys from the ignition and got out of the car, jogging to the door.

She came back out not two minutes later with two coffees. Climbing back into the car, she found him in the exact same position she'd left him in, and wondered if he'd even noticed her absence. "Hey," she said, elbowed him gently and handed him one of the cups. He looked surprised but took the coffee, looking at her for the first time since they'd left the storage building. She gave him a small smile, and he returned it weakly.

"Thanks, Linden."

She nodded at him and they drove on to the station, eager to get the rest of it over with.


	43. It Doesn't Matter

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Author's Note: **OK, so this chapter is by far the longest of this story so far… by a LOT. There's some chapters where I struggle with writing enough, sometimes when it flows well, and then there's this one, where I couldn't seem to stop. Am I probably a little overly dramatic about it? Well, yes, and I can admit it, but I don't really care. It's my story, after all. I love these two, and I just want to hug both of them and fix all of their issues... As far as whether or not this chapter's "too much…" I dunno, I guess you'll have to decide that for yourself. Either way, I hope you like it.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 8

Holder finishes up at the station before Linden. Skinner shows him some compassion and lets him go after only a few hours, then instructs a uni to drop him off at his apartment. Linden doesn't like that Holder's left at home alone to stew over the events of the day, but she's stuck at the station for several more hours before she's able to get away. As soon as she can, she heads straight for Holder's place.

He's been sitting on his living room couch in the dark, having changed into a white undershirt and jeans. He hasn't moved from the spot in several hours, and has no intention of doing so, except possibly to get more beer. Yeah, he's going to need more beer soon, at the rate he's going.

He hears the door click as she comes in, and he looks up with mild interest, though not enough interest that he would've opened the door for her if she hadn't let herself in, since that would've required leaving the couch. But suddenly, there she is, already half way across the room. "Green flower pot," she says, holding the spare key that she'd taken from its hiding place under the green flower pot in the hallway. "You weren't gonna answer if I knocked." _True enough,_ he thinks to himself without actually showing any reaction to her statement.

Linden looks at Holder on the couch in front of her. He looks even worse than she'd expected him to. She watches him carefully as he continues smoking and takes a drink out of a beer can that sounds almost empty as he sets it down again. She wonders how many of those he's had as she deposits the key on the counter that separates the kitchen and the living room and takes off her jacket, setting it down nearby. She can't blame him. Sometimes, the pain is just too much. She knows that better than most people, though she doesn't usually use alcohol to deal with it.

She walks over slowly and sits down beside him, unsure of what to do, only sure that nothing she can say or do is really going to fix anything. It's a helpless feeling. _I'm no good at this crap_, she thinks. Yes, death is a big part of their jobs, but whenever possible she deals exclusively with the facts, not the emotions, of the people in those cases. It's easier to keep her own emotions in check, even when a case threatens to consume her, but to see them flowing so freely out of someone that she cares about… she's at a loss. All she can think to do is to sit there.

Holder is sitting in the middle of the couch. It's large enough that she could have sat down with space between them, and most days she would have… but this time she chooses to sit closer, leaving only about an inch between them, if that. She feels like he needs her a little closer, and her instincts are usually right when it comes to Holder. So she sits close to him, even though she can't say she's exactly comfortable with the proximity.

She looks at him as he stares ahead of him and down, his forearms resting on his knees. He glances up at her, then back down. He pushes the pack of cigarettes and lighter that are on the coffee table in front of him over toward her, and she takes one and lights it. He sits back on the couch, and she does too. He stares off into space somewhere to his right, away from Linden. She looks at him, wanting to say _something_, even though it probably won't help.

"It's not your fault," she says softly.

He doesn't answer, just stares straight into space. When he speaks, he tries to change the subject. "Did you ever talk to Adrian?" he asks.

She allows the diversion, for the moment. "Yeah. He ID'ed Mills, but Mills was out of town the night she was killed, so… Adrian lied." Her voice is flat, empty. When it comes to the case, she's feeling defeated.

"He must've seen him on tv. You know, it's everywhere now. He was just trying to make you happy."

Holder sits forward to flick the ashes from his cigarette, then he sits back again. Linden is now staring straight ahead, just like Holder, lost in thoughts of her own.

"No one knows that Mills was out of town except Danette. So…" Linden doesn't need to finish her sentence. Holder looks over at Linden, who's still looking straight ahead of her. He knows exactly what she's suggesting. "I _could_ still use Adrian's testimony to get Seward a stay. It won't hold up, but…"

Holder scoffs at her.

"It'd buy me some more time at least." She's desperate, and they both know it.

"You'd be burying evidence," he reminds her.

"Yeah, but Ray Seward's gonna die tomorrow if I don't."

Holder looks away. Linden sits forward to flick the ashes off her cigarette, and doesn't sit back again when she's finished. She lets out a sigh and looks down at the patch of floor in front of her. Holder sighs as well, and Linden looks up, straight ahead now. They sit that way for thirty seconds or so, silently. The air is thick with both smoke and the thoughts that are churning inside their heads.

Finally, Holder circles back to what he had been thinking all along. "I should have picked up," he says miserably. Linden had known that he'd talk about it when he was ready.

She turns and looks back at him over her shoulder.

"Don't do that," she warns him seriously. She turns her body and leans back toward him, so that she's almost in his face.

"I should've called her back," he whimpers again.

"Don't do that," Linden repeats sternly. "You wanna sit here and die?"

He just looks at her, his eyes pleading for… something.

"It's not your fault," she repeats to him, willing him to believe it. "It's not your fault."

He leans towards her suddenly, moving to kiss her, and she quickly drops her head so that the top of her forehead connects with the bottom of his forehead instead. They freeze that way for half a second, before he pulls back from the contact, lifting his head but not looking directly at her. She keeps her head down, sighing heavily, and after a slight pause she awkwardly pats his leg with one hand. He inhales sharply. He's shocked by what he's just done, even though he was the one who did it.

"I'm sorry," he manages to choke out.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter," she says quickly. It's the truth. It _doesn't _matter. He's been drinking and he's devastated by grief and guilt. Would he have tried to kiss her outside of this situation? Probably not. Was she bothered by it? Other than being uncomfortable, no. More than anything, her heart is breaking to see her best friend hurting so much.

He leans forward and put his elbows on his knees, kneading his forehead with the heels of his hands. She sits forward beside him.

"It's okay… It's okay," she repeats. She wishes she knew something else to say, something she could do that would help, but this is out of her league. Solving crimes? She can do that in a heartbeat. The emotional stuff? She has no idea. The only thing she knows to do with emotions is swallow them, push them aside and pretend they don't exist. It's easier that way. They can't hurt you that way. You can't end up the way Holder is now, feeling broken, if you don't let yourself feel those emotions in the first place. Still, for him, she wants to try to help, even if it's completely out of her field of experience.

"Oh… I'm sorry," he moans again.

She's watching him transfer the _intensity_ of his grief and guilt over what had happened to Bullet into his guilt and regret at having tried to kiss her, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want him to be feeling those things _at all_, and certainly not because of her. She had been surprised, shocked even, and yes, intensely uncomfortable, but she can't hold it against him. She just wants desperately for him to stop torturing himself. Very awkwardly and very lightly she puts her hand on his back. It isn't something that she does normally, isn't even really sure _how_ it's supposed to be done, but she knows that for most people it's a comforting gesture, and she wants very much to comfort him.

"It's okay," she tells him again.

He put his arms down, dropping his head to his chest.

"It's okay," Linden repeats. At that, Holder starts sobbing, keeping his head down. "It's gonna be okay," she whispers to him again. He can't even hear her anymore, he's already fighting a battle with himself inside his head.

Holder hunches forward, his arms crossed and his elbows resting on his knees, his head resting on his arms. Linden sits back against the back of the couch, exhausted by the effort she's expended, putting her hands in her lap, feeling useless. "It's all gonna be okay," she whispers, though she feels at that moment that nothing will ever be right again.

_Holder_

I should've…

I could've….

It's _my_ fault…

I shouldn't have…

I should've…

I can't…

_Breathe, Holder._ _In and out._

I should've…

_No! Stop it!_

But it _is _my fault… It _is_! All I had to do was answer my damn phone.

_But you didn't kill her_.

No, but if not for me, if _I'd_ done things differently, then whoever _he _is, he wouldn't have been able to kill her… So I may as well have killed her myself.

_**Stop it. **__That's not true and you know it._

No, it _IS _true. That's the only thing I _do_ know. What I do now? I have no fucking idea.

_Just Breathe. For this moment, that's enough._

_Linden_

Seeing Holder like this feels like slow torture. I can't do anything to help him. _I don't know how to do this_. Emotions are not… my thing. I don't know how to do them, I never have. I've avoided emotions, avoided people, for so long for exactly this reason. Feeling things for people just leads you to this… to where Holder is now. Eventually, it all falls apart, no matter how you convince yourself that it won't, that _this time will be different_. It always falls apart.

I wish I could help him, but I just… I can't. It's not something I've ever known how to do. People have to show you these things, and the only one who's ever shown me a little bit of how to do it is… _Holder_.

But for him, I have to try.

…

Linden had gotten up to get Holder a box of tissues from the bathroom, coming back and setting it on the coffee table in front of him. She'd tried one more awkward pat on his back before sitting back in the same position she'd been in, her back against the back of the couch and her hands in her lap. She'd fallen silent, her whispered assurances feeling empty to her. How could she tell him that _anything_ would be okay? How could _she _of all people promise anyone that things would turn out okay? Sarah Linden, the one for whom _nothing_ ever seemed to go right where feelings were concerned… It felt hypocritical of her to tell him that things would be alright, so she'd fallen silent.

They'd been sitting that way for what felt like hours. Linden was really at a loss as to what to do to help him, though she had desperately wanted to do just that. All she felt like she had to offer was her presence, for all the good it would do, but she had no problem giving that. She wasn't confident that it helped, but she liked to think that it did, even just a little bit. In any case, she wasn't leaving his side any time soon. Their roles had been reversed only very recently, even if she hadn't been quite as open about her feelings. She hadn't _needed _to tell him anything though, he'd just known, and that was possibly the best part of their whole friendship. She never would have been able to tell him that she needed him there, but there had been no need for her to – he just knew. He hadn't left her side until he'd decided that she'd be okay, and she wanted to return the favor, even if she didn't know how. The situation was different, but in a lot of ways, it was the same.

Finally, his tears had run out, as had his energy. He'd sank back on the couch beside her, slouching down and crossing his arms across his chest. He let out a heavy sigh, his breath coming out raggedly. It was obvious that the pain still raw, even though he seemed calmer now. Really, what he was feeling was more exhaustion than calm. She glanced down at him, since he had slouched down and was sitting a good deal lower than she was, and saw that his eyes were closing.

"Holder," she whispered. "You should go lay down. You're exhausted."

"Mmmm-hmmmm…." he replied, as his eyes slipped all the way closed.

"Holder, I'm serious," she said gently, gently nudging his shoulder with her arm. He opened his eyes sleepily.

"Huh?" he asked, his eyes only opening partway. "Serious 'bout what?" She knew that she'd caught him _just _before he'd fallen asleep, and it was a good thing. He definitely needed to sleep in his own bed, and she was _not_ going to be able to get him there herself.

"Come on," she said, sitting forward slightly and holding onto his arm. "Up. You need to sleep in your bed, not sitting on the couch. You'll thank me tomorrow."

"Linden, did you just tell say you were takin' me to bed and that I'd thank you tomorrow?" He raised his eyebrows at her, more like himself than she'd seen him all day. She smiled at his joke, rolling her eyes in pretend annoyance.

"Shut up, Holder. Come on, get your ass up," she told him, glad to see even a spark of his personality resurfacing. She tugged at his arm one more time before letting it go, standing up herself and stretching. She felt like every part of her body was tight from sitting in the same position for so long. He stood up slowly and unsteadily, suddenly looking queasy. She wasn't sure how much he'd had to drink before she had arrived, but he certainly hadn't been what she'd call clear headed, and it looked like it was hitting him now, one way or another.

"I'm just gonna…" he started, almost tripping over his own feet to get to the bathroom. Linden just walked slowly to the window that overlooked the street. She thought back to the time she'd been there in the middle of the night, during the Rosie Larsen case, unable to sleep more than two hours. The view from that window had been so ominous. It was dark outside now too, but somehow it didn't look menacing. It just looked dark.

She heard the bathroom door open and the sound snapped her out of her thoughts.

"OK?" she asked.

"Much better," he mumbled sleepily.

"Good. Go get yourself in bed. I'm gonna get you something for that hangover you don't wanna have tomorrow," she told him in a voice that suggested that he not argue. He shook his head, which he immediately regretted because it made him a little bit dizzy. Linden was always bossy, but she wasn't usually in his _apartment_ being bossy. At any other time he would have found it more than a little bit amusing, but tonight he didn't have it in him. He walked unsteadily towards the bedroom, putting his hands out to catch the walls that seemed to rush towards him without warning, definitely thinking that sleep was a good idea and hoping that he'd make it to the bed before his legs gave out.

Linden walked into the small kitchen and began opening cupboards, sure that Holder must have some pain relievers in there somewhere. The kitchen was well organized, and she found them after only a short search, then repeated the search for a cup so that she could bring him some water to wash the pills down. She padded down the hallway, wondering if he would already have passed out. He was exhausted enough that it seemed like a distinct possibility. "You decent in there?" she called out from beside the doorway.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he called back, his voice sleepy, a little slurred and not quite himself… but still teasing her. She hoped that was a good sign.

"I'm gonna _hope _that's a yes," she said, rounding the corner through the doorway. She found Holder under the covers, looking like he was already half asleep. Considering this, she opened the bottle and shook out two pills for him instead of handing him the bottle. She held out her hand and waited for him to hold his hand out to take them, dropping them into his palm, then held out the cup of water. He took it without comment, just a weak smile. She watched him swallow the pills and the water, then set the cup on the nightstand. She stood awkwardly, shifting back and forth.

She sighed. "Holder, you okay?"

"Why? You leavin'? Cause I'm pretty sure you missed that ferry," he said drowsily. She looked at her watch and cursed under her breath. That whole "living on an island" thing that's she'd thought she wanted was constantly coming back to bite her in the ass.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm just gonna—" she started, but he didn't let her finish. She didn't know how she was going to finish the sentence anyway, so it didn't matter.

"You're gonna what, Linden? Go sleep in your car? Don't make me fight you on this. I'm too tired, and I _know_ you're tired too, even if you deal with it better than I do," he snapped, a little more forcefully than he'd meant to. He looked a little sheepish, but in a gentler voice he said, "You _know_ you can crash here."

She looked at him for a second, slightly taken aback, then, realizing that she _was_ indeed tired and was being ridiculous and stubborn, she sighed heavily. She _hated _when he was right. "Well then, guess I'm crashing on your couch," she mumbled.

Holder suddenly propped himself up on his elbow, looking like he was concentrating on not falling over. "Linden, I swear to God I'm not making this up… but as awesome as that couch is… sleeping on it… _sucks."_

She did _not_ like where this was going.

"You remember that night last year when you and Jack crashed here, and I slept on that couch?" She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to remember something from that night besides staring out into the blackness outside his living room window. Finally she nodded, staring at him blankly, willing him not to say what she was pretty sure he was going to say.

"And you remember, when you got up in the middle of the night, how I was _awake_?" She nodded again, understanding exactly what he was saying. "Sleeping on that couch _sucks,_" he repeated emphatically, now looking slightly more awake.

She wished she could have frozen time, because she wanted a minute to think of how to stop him from saying what he was about to say. He must have read all of this in her face, because suddenly he looked sheepish, as if he'd been chastised. She was good at lots of avoidance behaviors, but keeping her feelings from showing on her face was a skill she'd never mastered.

He looked down at the floor, then before he spoke, looked her straight in the eyes. "Linden, I'm… I'm sorry about before. I don't know why I did it." He paused, glanced down, then back up at her. "I would never…" She shook her head quickly, insistently. His speech was a little bit slurred, likely from both exhaustion and alcohol, but she knew Holder, and she knew that he meant it. She knew without him having to _say_ it that he wouldn't purposely do anything to hurt her.

"Holder, _I know that. _I told you, it doesn't matter…" She looked like she would rather fall through the floor than be having this conversation, which pretty accurately described how she was feeling.

"All I'm sayin' is, you missed the ferry. The couch sucks..." Now he too looked like he would rather die than spit out the rest of the sentence, mostly because of how she'd already reacted. He glanced at the other side of the bed, opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but then seemed to change his mind. He shook his head. "Linden, stop giving me the death glare. We're both adults here."

It didn't seem possible, but somehow she was even more uncomfortable now than she'd been before.

"It's either that, or I'm takin' the floor and you sleep in the bed. I would sooner sleep on the floor than that couch again, and I'm _certainly _not puttin' you on the floor or that couch, no matter what state I'm in," he added. He watched her carefully, thinking that she was looking more and more like she might just run, wishing that she could see that it didn't have to be as big a deal as she was making it.

She bit her lip, hating this whole conversation. She wanted nothing more than to run. But to _where_? If she could've thought of a viable destination, she might have done just that. But that was kinda the problem with keeping yourself cut off from people on purpose – when you wanted somewhere to escape to, there was nowhere to go. She silently cursed the ferry, the couch, her house and herself, for having chosen to live on an island. She cursed all water in general, while she was at it. Her head was throbbing, the way it did when she got herself completely and totally worked up about something.

_Calm down, Sarah,_ she told herself. _Be rational_. Of course she wasn't going to let him sleep on the floor in his own apartment, and certainly not after the day he'd just had. He wasn't going to let her sleep on the floor either, because he was a nice guy. _He's your friend, for God's sake_, that voice in her head insisted. _He's not an axe murderer, and he's not telling you he wants to kill you._ She exhaled loudly. She was trying hard to calm herself down, but calm had never really been her thing. She did _freak out _**far **better than she did _calm_.

"What? You don't trust me now?" Holder asked suddenly, looking and sounding hurt. That made her forgot the argument she'd been having in her head, and it was her turn to look pained. That was the last thing she wanted him to think, and certainly not today. He'd been through enough, and she immediately felt guilty. She was supposed to be here trying to make him feel _better_, not worse.

She pleaded with her brain to stop working so hard at thinking. It was the thinking that always made her panic, but it was usually impossible for her to turn it off before she ran in the other direction, literally _and_ figuratively. She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. "Holder, you know I trust you," she said. And as exhausted as he was, he could hear it in her voice… she was begging him to understand. "After all, how many times have you saved my life?"

It was all suddenly too much for her. She sank down to sit on the edge of the bed without thinking about what she was doing, and he scooted back to make room for her.

He knew he'd struck a nerve, and he felt guilty as soon as the words left his mouth. They knew each other's baggage pretty well by now, and now she was sitting in front of him looking like she was having a panic attack. The pain he was in didn't give him permission to forget everything he knew about her, and now he felt the need to backpedal. He was afraid she was going to run and just… drive off somewhere. He didn't want her to do that, both for her safety, and because… he was glad that she was there.

Now he was the one trying to keep his voice calm. "Linden, I'm sorry I said that. I…" he began, but she shook her head at him insistently.

"Don't be sorry, it's me…" She stopped, leaned her elbows down on her knees and put her head in her hands, pushing her palms into her forehead as hard as she could to counteract the pressure that had suddenly built up in her head and was making it feel like it was about to explode. _Dammit, why can't I just __**not**__ think_? she asked herself.

He sighed, watching her and suddenly wondering which of them was really comforting which one, or whether they were just both killing themselves to help the other. He sighed again and shook his head, chuckling softly. "Ironically, I think we'd have this conversation more successfully if we weren't both so _exhausted_," he said, yawning.

She looked up slowly and smiled ever so slightly, realizing that she was simply too tired for the battle her mind was fighting. _Dammit Sarah, just stop. It's not some random person. You're __**not**__ afraid of Holder. _Suddenly she was just exhausted, and the softness of the bed was too much. "Okay okay," she mumbled. "Scoot over."

Holder moved back to the pillow on the far side of the bed, and Linden laid down, turning on her side so that she was facing him. As she laid her head on the pillow, she noticed that it was warm and couldn't help but smile.

"Not so bad?" Holder asked tentatively.

Linden shook her head tiredly. "There's a blanket over on the chair if you get cold out there…" Knowing that he was referring to the fact that she was laying on top of the blankets, she sighed, repeating to herself _You're not afraid of Holder,_ and, making a face at him to show she knew exactly what he was saying, she moved around so that she could get under the blankets.

"You sure you're okay? I can take the floor," Holder asked sincerely, though he looked very happy with his head on the pillow and the blanket over him.

"No, I'm okay, thanks," she said, touched by his concern. Now that she was laying there, she couldn't help but wonder why she'd just made herself so crazy. Everything seemed to be fine. She paused, looking at him carefully. "Are _you_ okay?"

He was laying on his back, and he closed his eyes and exhaled, then opened them again. He shook his head slightly as if he wanted to clear what he had seen when he closed his eyes, but also as an answer to her question.

"It's not your fault, Holder," she told him again. "I mean it… Don't do that to yourself, okay?"

Holder sighed heavily, turning his head toward her. "You readin' my mind now?" he asked, pretending to sulk slightly. She just gave him the look that told him that she wasn't going to let him joke it off, staring at him intently until he looked away. "OK fine, Linden," he sighed.

"Besides," she said, suddenly smiling, "Did you forget? This is a demon-free zone. You told me so." She'd just recalled Holder saying that to her the night she and Jack had crashed there the previous year.

Holder chuckled softly at the memory. "So I did…" He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Thanks for keepin' me company."

She shrugged away the thanks. "As you pointed out, I missed the ferry," she told him.

"You coulda left a long time ago and had plenty of time to get to the ferry," he said quietly, "Hell, you didn't have to come over here in the first place today, and you know it."

She made a face like she was considering his words, then looked at him seriously. "Yeah, but what kinda friend would I be then? Besides, I'm stubborn," she said matter-of-factly, a small smile finally breaking through her usual deadpan humor.

"You said it, not me," he replied, a smirk creeping across his face.

"I'd hit you with this pillow, but I'm too comfortable," she told him, her eyes starting to close.

"Works for me," he said, his eyes starting to close for the tenth time, at least. "Good night, Linden."

He smiled when he noticed that she was already asleep, and it was only a few seconds before he was, too.


	44. I'll Be Fine

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay. Life has been busy, my other story has consumed me, and it was kinda tough to follow that previous chapter, which I was so happy with. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 8

Linden's eyes blinked open slowly, and she saw right away that she wasn't in her own bedroom. She tried to remember where she was. Early morning sunlight was filtering through a window across the room, and she knew the place was familiar. Her mind was working a million miles an hour to process what she saw, but it hadn't quite caught up. There was a moment of panic, because how was it possible for her to wake up not knowing where she was? And yet… at the same time, the place felt calming and she knew that she wasn't in danger.

She stopped and tried to remember the previous night, and then it all came flooding back to her: all of the events of the entire previous day. _The storage unit. Bullet_. _Holder_. _Missing the ferry. Fighting with herself about laying down._ Her eyes focused on the space immediately in front of her. She could tell from the fact that she was still facing the side of the bed where Holder had been laying that she hadn't moved while she'd slept. This was something of a miracle for her, and a sign that she had slept far more soundly than she usually did in her own house. Most mornings she woke up with the covers twisted around herself, or sometimes even having thrown them to the floor in her sleep, a product of her nightmares. Somehow the demons in her head always waited to descend upon her when she slept... but somehow, they hadn't found her at Holder's place. She smiled at the thought despite her best efforts to stop herself.

She was staring at the space where Holder had been laying the night before, now empty. He was already up, obviously. _How long had he actually slept? s_he wondered. She was conscious of the soft pillow under her head and contemplated how much she would like to just close her eyes and go back to sleep. It was rare that she slept this well, and it wouldn't be hard at all. But then she realized how much there was to do, how short Ray Seward's time was, and she knew that it was time to get up. She shifted reluctantly and pulled the covers off of herself. _It was ironic_, she thought, _how long it took me to convince myself to lie down there last night, and now I have to convince myself to get back up._

Walking quietly down the hall without making a sound, she found Holder in the kitchen. He was moving slowly, but moving nonetheless. Today, that counted as a victory. He didn't see her at first, and she leaned her shoulder and her head against the door frame sleepily, watching him making coffee. He looked tired, not just physically, but in every way a person can be tired. Just like she felt. She supposed that she looked that way too, if she had to guess.

He looked up at her then and tried to smile weakly, but it came out as more of a grimace. She knew that feeling all too well, except that his weak attempt to disguise it was still better than any of hers had ever been. Her first thought when he looked at her was that he still looked so lost, just as he had the night before. He looked like he needed a hug. Unfortunately, she didn't really do hugs. Instead, she smiled at him with what she hoped was more warmth than sadness. She knew it wasn't much, but for her it was a lot. Not just anyone got a smile from Sarah Linden. No, Holder actually seemed to get most of them.

"Morning. Coffee's almost ready," he told her quietly.

She nodded slowly. "Thanks." Pausing, she considered exactly what to say. As usual, she couldn't come up with anything, so she settled for something generic.

"You okay?" She decided it was better than nothing, anyway.

Holder shrugged, looking back at the coffee pot and exhaling slowly. "Yeah." It came out as almost a whisper, an afterthought, as though he'd suddenly realized that he was supposed to answer.

She kept her eyes trained on him, knowing that he was looking away from her on purpose. She continued to watch him, once again wishing there was something that she could do or say that would help. They stood this way for another minute or two, until the noise from the coffee pot increased, signaling that it had finished brewing the pot that Holder had set up. He took a mug from where he'd set it on the counter and filled it, turning slowly and then handing it to her, finally meeting her eyes again. She leaned forward to take it, then returned to her position on the doorframe.

"Thanks," she said simply.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and stood, sipping it and staring absently into space. "I have to go to the morgue," he said, still not looking at her. "They called me to ID her… and to get her… personal effects." Linden just nodded, then looked down at the floor. Though he was talking _to her_, suddenly she almost felt like she was invading his privacy by being there.

"She would be glad that it was you who was doing it," she said softly, looking back up at him, then watched as he winced slightly at her words. Still, he nodded just the same.

"You want me to come along?" she asked after a pause. She was completely serious. Despite how much she had to do that day, she hoped that he'd say yes. He was still staring at nothing, but he shook his head slowly.

"No. I'll be fine," he said, still not looking at her. Of course, she knew a lie when she heard one, _especially_ that one. How many times had she told people that she was fine, when on the inside she was anything but? She'd basically spent her entire life doing that. Hell, she'd been telling _herself_ she was fine for as long as she could remember, while knowing, on some level, that she was anything but fine. Sometimes it was easier not to admit that you weren't fine. The longer she watched him, the worse she felt for him. While she routinely did what he was doing – insisting that he was fine – out of necessity to deal with her emotions, she knew how much _he_ had to be hurting to get to that point. That just wasn't Holder.

She tried to think of something to say, something that would help. "Holder," she said, louder this time, trying to get his attention. He moved as if he was stuck in slow motion, his reaction time slowed by the grief that consumed him. When he finally looked at her, she nearly wished she hadn't gotten his attention after all, because the sadness in his eyes was almost too much for her. _This_ was why she didn't _do_ emotions. She just didn't have it in her to handle them when everything fell apart.

If there was one thing she'd learned, it was that it _always_ fell apart eventually.

No matter how good it was, no matter what anyone might promise. In the end, it didn't matter. It was better not to let yourself believe in the first place.

"You don't have to go there alone. You don't have anything to prove to anyone. I mean…" she stumbled over her words, unable to think of what to say next. She wanted to tell him that she was there for him, but didn't know the best way to say it. _Fuck! _she thought. She wished she was better at this.

He almost smiled then. It didn't quite reach his face, but she could see it in his eyes, and she knew that what she'd said had been enough. "I know, Linden… You're my ride." He exhaled sharply and took another drink of his coffee. The bags under his eyes seemed to have grown as they'd stood there, if that was even possible.

_I should know by now_, she thought. _He knows. _Still, she was glad that she'd made the effort, and she could see that he appreciated it.

"You want something to eat?" Holder asked.

_Ever the gentleman, _she thought. "No, thanks," she said. "I should get to the station. Seward doesn't have much time left. I have to figure something out, whatever it is I'm missing…" She felt her anxiety level increase just _thinking_ about Ray Seward. It must have shown on her face, because Holder, who'd been watching her, suddenly looked at _her_ with concern of his own.

"You can't fix it all, Linden," he said quietly. She looked at him for what felt like a long time, and suddenly he felt like their roles had been reversed as they'd stood there. It was as though he was suddenly strong, and that she was now the one who was suffering from her thoughts.

"I can't fix _anything,_" she whispered. "We don't _fix _things. They're always dead when we get there." She paused, looking as though she was physically in pain. He wondered how she could stand to do it to herself, case after case, to take on the pain of strangers when she so clearly denied her own. He wondered if maybe that was _how _she could do it. "If Ray Seward is innocent, he deserves our help. _I_ helped put him where he is. It's _my_ _fault_," she lamented miserably.

Holder smiled sadly then, shaking his head and chuckling softly. Linden looked up at him, confused. "What'd you say to me last night, Linden? I wasn't that drunk, I remember exactly what happened. I believe it was a very emphatic 'It's not your fault,' wasn't it?"

Recognition dawned on her and she made a face at him, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips. "Followed by me making a damn fool of myself," he added, trying to lighten the air between them. He wanted to apologize to her again for trying to kiss her. He groaned inwardly every time he thought about it. What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? But this moment had become about her, not him what would make _him_ feel better.

"It's completely different," she insisted, then added, "and you _didn't_ make a fool of yourself_._ I told you, it _didn't_ matter. It _doesn't_."

Holder knew that Linden wasn't one to beat around the bush or say things she didn't mean. If she said it didn't matter to her, then it didn't matter. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that he hadn't ruined their friendship with his actions the night before. He couldn't even tell her how relieved he was over this. Bullet's death had been devastating, but losing Linden as a friend right now would have destroyed him.

"It _ain't_ different,_" _he said emphatically. "Shit happens. That's life and it happens to _everyone_. Only difference is how you deal with it. You do your best and shit happens anyway. If it's true for me then it's true for you, too." He held her gaze until she finally looked away again, drinking her coffee and staring at the floor.

She knew she wasn't going to win. Not against Holder. They were evenly matched in the stubbornness department, that was for sure, and she didn't have the energy to fight him just then.

She looked back up at him, and found that he was still watching her. She wanted to look away again, but he held her gaze firmly. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "Whether he did it or he didn't, _you_ did the best you could with the information that you had. Like you _always _do. You won't let yourself feel your _own_ emotions, but you take on your cases as obsessions. It makes you incredible at your job, but it means you get _way_ too involved. To the point where you sacrifice everything in your life to try to make things right."

He was getting wound up now, he could feel it, and he tried to calm himself down and focus on the issue at hand. "There are some things you _can't_ make right." He paused, looking at her intently, trying to convey with his eyes how sincerely he meant all of this. "It's _not_ your fault," he repeated finally.

Shaking her head, she finally looked away. It was hard to hear him say all this, but she knew it was the truth. Somehow, he saw her just as clearly as she saw him, no matter how much it scared her.

"Shut up, Holder," she grumbled, hating that he understood her so well, hating that she found that she liked the feeling of being understood. It was what she wanted to avoid, because it would make her too vulnerable.

He watched the wheels turning and knew that she was fighting it, but he could see the change in her expression and knew that he'd gotten through. His mission accomplished, he let it go.

"You want more coffee?" he asked, holding up the pot to show that there was plenty.

"No, thanks. I gotta get going," she replied, draining the rest of what was in her mug and setting it on the counter. "You need a ride?"

Holder thought for a second. "I guess I do," he replied, realizing that a uni had dropped him off at home the day before and that his car was at the station. He finished his coffee and set his mug in the sink. "You ready?"

"Ready when you are," she replied. She'd just rolled out of bed, dressed in yesterday's clothes, but she had a toothbrush stashed at the station for the times when she worked through the night, which wasn't especially rare. Beyond that, well, Linden didn't care too much about how she looked. She'd go home and take a shower… eventually.

"Alright then, let's roll," Holder said. On their way out, Linden grabbed the spare key that she'd taken from Holder's hiding place under the green flower pot in the hallway. As he locked the door after them, she returned it to its place.

"Gotta make sure it's there for next time," she said as she stood up. He chuckled at her.

"Next time, huh?" he asked. "You plannin' to make a habit of comin' into my place unannounced?" It was impossible to miss the smirk on his face.

She just shrugged. "Something tells me that with us, there'll always be a next time." At that, he chuckled softly again and just shook his head.

_I hope so,_ he thought.

…

_Linden_

I almost wonder what would happen if Holder and I were ever to fall apart at the same time… sometimes it seems like we switch off almost moment to moment. I mean, I was over there to comfort _him_, so how did he end up giving _me_ the pep talk? I don't even know how it happened… oh wait, I do. I got myself worked up about Ray Seward, like I always do. There's more to that case, I know it. Maybe I can't "fix everything," or whatever Holder was saying, but I _have to_ find out the truth before it's too late. I have to.

For some reason, I feel like it's the only way to save _myself_.

_Holder_

I don't know how Linden does it. Blocks out the pain. Most of the time I feel bad for her, but right now… I'm jealous. I wish I _could_ block it all out. Not let myself feel it. More than anything, right now, I wish I didn't feel any of it… the "what ifs," the "if onlys," the "I should'ves…" none of it.

But then, I know that's not me. That's no way to live. I wish I could make _her_ see that, too. Of course, if I'd seen everything she's seen – and I've seen my share – I'd probably block it all out too. It's funny how our minds work, how we can take so much and then presto, no more. I wish I could make her see that she's not alone. It's like she knows, and yet… she doesn't. Like she wants to believe in someone, but she can't let herself.

She says Bullet's not my fault the same way I tell her that Ray Seward's not hers. Funny how it's always easier to think that someone else should forgive themselves, but when it's you, it feels impossible. All I can do now – all _we_ can do now – is get this guy.

We have to.

…

Holder is so angry he can't see straight. He'd been at the morgue and been told that Reddick had logged the calls from Bullet on the night she'd been killed. When he hadn't answered his phone. When she'd called and called the station for him, apparently, but no one had told him. _I could have saved her._ The thought tears through his mind like a flaming arrow, over and over, until he can see nothing but red. He is angry, mostly with himself but also with Reddick. In a flash of poor judgement, he hops in his car, blind with rage, and before he even knows what he'd doing, he pulls up in front of Reddick's house.

He doesn't know what he'll accomplish by being there, but he's there. Reddick opens the front door and greets Holder, who proceeds to punch him in the face. Never mind that they're officially partners. Never mind that they're both police officers – that they're both _adults_. Never mind what the consequences of assaulting his partner will be. Holder doesn't stop to consider any of it. He barely hears Reddick's wife and teenage daughter screaming as he continues to take out his anger on his partner.

Suddenly, belatedly, Holder realizes that he needs to stop. This isn't helping. If anything, it's going to come back and bite him in the ass. What he needs is to get himself out of there, _now._ Just as suddenly as he arrived, he leaves, knowing that what he has just done hasn't solved anything.

_Get ahold of yourself, Holder,_ he tells himself. _Just get the hell out of there._


	45. Always Running

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 9

Linden storms out of the prison building, already smoking a cigarette. She's fuming.

Holder's waiting in the parking lot, sees her approach and starts towards her. "Yo…" She keeps walking, angrily, as if she hadn't heard him. "Hey, where you going?" he asks, now confused.

Her voice breaks as she responds. "He played me. He lied. He's been lying all along."

"Whoa whoa, hold up. What are you talking about?" Holder's already lost and needs Linden to slow down.

"I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake. He was there in the apartment. He killed his wife, end of story."

"What about the ring?" he asks.

"You said it yourself, it could be anybody's. It doesn't mean anything."

"What, so you're just _leaving?_"He stands in front of her for a second before grabbing the car keys from her hand and taking a step closer to her. "You can't. They won't let you see him again."

Linden's shocked at Holder's action, and suddenly desperate. "Give me them back," she growls.

"No."

"Give them to me, Holder!

"NO," Holder replies, louder this time. "After all this, you just walk away? There's lots of reasons why he could've been there. He _lived_ there."

"Then why did he lie about it?" She's refusing to buy into any of it all of a sudden.

"I don't know, go in there and ask him! What about Adrian?" 

"I'm done! I'm done! Give me the keys!" Linden demands again, growing increasingly angry.

"This is like a pattern with you, you know that? You always leavin', runnin'. You never stay." _He's not wrong_, she thinks miserably.

"You're drunk," she says with disgust, trying to pretend that that changes the fact that he sees what she's doing. She's always tried so hard not to let anyone get close to her, to understand her, yet somehow he does.

He ignores her and continues. "…'Cause if you did, then you'd _want_ it. You'd _need_ it. And then you could get _hurt._"He pokes her chest for emphasis at the word 'hurt.' "And _left_… or _not_ left. What the hell happened to you, Linden? Why you always takin' off?"

Linden stares up at him, now right in front of her, for a second, then looks down and grabs the keys back from him. "Why don't you just shut up and take your own damn advice?" she demands without looking back up at him. She turns and walks the few steps to her car quickly.

"Yeah, maybe I should," he replies calmly.

She unlocks the door, opens it and gets in, slamming it behind her and starting the engine. The window is open a few inches, and he continues to talk to her as he walks slowly towards the car. "We never stay, and in the end we lose everyone." He comes to stand beside the car, looking at her through the partially open window. She stares straight ahead as he shifts back and forth from one foot to another.

"I'm not gonna try and kiss you again, Linden." At that remark, she starts rolling up her window.

_Shut up, Holder. Why is he bringing __**that**_up again?

"Keep dreamin'," he adds with a smirk. Her window is now closed, but she's still sitting in the car, staring forward. He isn't letting her go easily. "You hear me? I'm not gonna kiss you again, Linden." He's being playful now, clearly not feeling self-conscious about that night anymore.

She isn't looking at him, but her mouth is curling up ever so slightly all of a sudden. He leans down toward the window. "Uhh-uhh. You missed your chance, Linden." He giggles slightly, whether because of the alcohol or because he's acting silly to intentionally try to get to her, or perhaps a combination of both.

She looks down, chuckling but holding it in. She's smiling now, though she's fighting it. She looks up at him, then quickly down again, but keeps smiling. He opens her car door.

"Come on," he says gently, knowing that he has successfully calmed her down. She looks like she's about to stand up and walk back inside with him.

And then her damn cellphone rings, and it all goes to hell.

"Detective Linden…" Her smile begins to fade. "Yes, sir, I'm still here at the prison…" What had been left of her smile fades as she listens. "I understand, sir. I appreciate you taking the time to consider a stay at all. I'll let him know."

She puts the phone down, her face now emotionless again. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, then opens them again, staring straight ahead. She looks up at Holder and shakes her head slightly. He shifts back and forth a few times from foot to foot, and then walks a few steps away. She continues to stare ahead.

_Holder_

**Dammit! **

I had her, just for a second I'd gotten through to her. I wasn't sure it was going to work, but I figured I'd play up the whole drunk thing, give it a try and see if it'd work to my advantage… and surprisingly, it did. I mean, _of course_ it did… Linden finds me hilarious, even if she doesn't realize it half the time… But I'm never really sure **what**'s gonna work with her, and sometimes nothing does.

As much as she fights it, I think deep down she wants to let someone in, but it scares the hell out of her, so she fights even harder.

And then that damn phone call from the DA… and up go the walls again.

She's maddening. She's impossible.

But that's Linden. And I'm gonna keep trying to save her from herself, because I'm just as stubborn as she is.

_Linden_

I can't do this. I can't.

He did it, he killed her... and he played me.

…But what if he didn't?

_Breathe_.

In the end though, it doesn't matter. He's going to die. Because of me.

_No, because of him._

But **did he do it**?

It doesn't matter…

Except that it does. _Of course_ it matters!

But it doesn't _change_ anything. There's nothing I can do.

_Breathe._

I can't do this…

_But I have to._

If I don't let myself feel it, I can do it. That's how I've made it this far, after all.

…

After what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Linden got out of the car. She moved slowly, almost robotically.

Holder had only been half a car length away, and he looked over his shoulder at her. He knew what this was going to do to her. She'd been just barely hanging on before this, and she'd been desperate to save Seward's life. Of course, that was before she'd changed her mind and decided that he'd lied to her about everything, and before the stay had been denied. Now it didn't matter what the evidence said, there was nothing left to do. Holder knew that as hard as it had been for her to have a small measure of control, it was going to be harder for her to have none.

"Linden?" he asked tentatively. She shook her head, not looking at him before closing the car door, hard, and walking away from the prison building. "Hey!" he called. "Where're you goin'?" She didn't answer him, didn't even acknowledge the question, she just kept walking, faster with each step until she was running. "Dammit," he mumbled under his breath, breaking into a jog to catch up with her.

She didn't get far, maybe a quarter mile at the most, before she stopped, doubled over, bracing her hands on her knees to hold herself up, and panting. No, as he got closer he saw that she was hyperventilating. Though he knew she was fighting it hard, as she always did, he also knew that eventually she was going to break down. The way she was going, it was probably going to be sooner than later. Linden was strong, there was no denying that, but the amount of stress she subjected herself to would've broken anyone else long ago, and even _she_ was just barely hanging on.

He slowed to a walk as he caught up to her, and stopped for a second a few feet away. He gradually moved forward to stand beside her, looking out at the grassy field beyond them, the road winding through it and off of the property. Her breathing was still erratic and he couldn't be quite sure how much of it was the sudden run and how much of it was just the breakdown he was expecting, or if it was all one or the other. He watched her out of the corner of his eye for clues, then finally turned to face her.

"You even know what you're tryin' to run from this time?" he asked quietly. She just shook her head, defeated, looking at the ground.

She was miserable, and she felt truly pathetic. He'd just called her out on running from her problems, and she'd known that he was right, even though she didn't want to admit it. And then what had she turned around and done? Not five minutes later, she had literally started running, as if she'd be able to escape from what was in her head. _Stupid_, she thought. _What the hell was that supposed to prove, other than that you're an idiot?_

She took three steps forward to the curb at the edge of the parking lot and sat down, resting her elbows on her knees, crossing her arms, then leaning her head down on her them in defeat. He followed her slowly to where she was sitting and sat down beside her. She was still breathing heavily, but she wasn't crying. He sat close to her, their shoulders just barely touching, as he'd done on only the handful of times when one of them had been upset enough to need it. He rested his arms on his knees.

It was hard to know what to say. The reality of the situation sucked, and like it or not, Linden was fully emotionally invested in it. It seemed to Holder that that was the only way that Linden knew how to be. No matter what it was, she was either all "in" or all "out." She either felt everything so deeply that it cut through her, which was what she did with her work, what made her such a great detective, or she didn't let herself feel _anything_, which was how she handled her personal life.

He turned his head slightly towards her, his expression serious. She lifted her head, sighing deeply, and glanced at him before looking away again. He knew there was no point in asking her if she was okay. He knew she wasn't okay, and it would be ridiculous to think that she would be, given everything she'd been through. He exhaled loudly, shaking his head and half looking out straight ahead of where they were sitting, while keeping her in his line of vision. She nodded ever so slightly, frowning deeply.

Holder was the first one to stand up, slowly. Turning around to face her, he said simply, "Come on. It's time." She nodded, exhaling slowly. There wasn't much time, and she had to face Seward, tell him that it was over.

Holder put his hand out, offering to help her up. She looked at it in surprise for a few seconds, before reaching out slowly, hesitantly, and taking it. She wasn't used to being offered help, even after having known Holder for as long as she had, and she certainly wasn't used to accepting any help. What she was used to was telling herself that she didn't need help. That she didn't need anyone else, ever. It frightened her that Holder was starting to make her question that.

Despite her initial reactions, she let him pull her up to stand, not looking him in the eye, and dropping his hand as soon as she was standing. He stood facing her for a moment, watching her, before she took a deep breath, nodded, and pushed past him, walking back toward the building. Holder was close behind, and being so much taller than she was, he caught up with her almost immediately. They walked slowly, silently, side by side back to the prison.

Another time, he might've felt like he should say something to reassure her, but not now. Holder had gotten pretty good at reading her, and he knew that there was nothing he could say that _would_ reassure her. No, she didn't need him to say anything. It wouldn't help anyway.

As far as she was concerned, he was there, and that was what mattered.


	46. It's Good

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Holder gets out of his car at the crime scene that he had been called to, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. There's the usual police activity and radio chatter as he walks across the junk yard. Approaching a burnt out car, he looks around at the ground nearby. Linden comes up from the other side of the car without him noticing.

"You're late," she tells him. No greeting, no small talk. Right down to business, as if he hadn't seen her almost break down the day Seward was executed.

He turns around to look at her, surprised to see her there. No, shocked was a more accurate word.

"I thought you'd be halfway to Chicago by now," he told her.

She makes a face at him, choosing to ignore that statement. It's not as though she's never given him a reason to expect that of her, and she knows it. On the contrary, she had even surprised herself a little by being there after everything that had happened with Seward. She'd actually expected him to make a much bigger deal of her presence than he had so far. And yet… she's there.

She holds up a plastic bag in her gloved hand to show him what they'd already found.

".45. Two more in the backseat," she tells him. "Fire was probably set yesterday afternoon. Guy who opened the yard this morning found it. Firemen called us when they found the body."

"They don't got no security here?" he asks in surprise, letting her slip without further teasing, at least for the moment.

"Not on Sunday, apparently. Not sure whether we've got a John or a Jane Doe. Coroner's en route."

"You interview the guy who called it in?" he asks.

"I thought I'd wait for you," she replies.

Holder pauses and looks up at her. She's _full_ of surprises this morning. He continues his walk around the burnt out car without speaking. Linden knows that she got off easy so far as far as Holder's teasing is concerned, and she's pretty sure he's going to make a big deal out of this. At least it seems like it, judging by the genuine surprise that shows so clearly on his face.

It's in his voice, too. "Oh… So, this is for _real_ then? Detective Linden. You're not gonna… peace out on me, leave me to crime fight with Jank-Ass Jablonski?" His slow circle around the car has brought him back around to where she's standing.

She's looking at the car as she says evenly, "Well, you're my ride, so… I guess you're stuck with me." Her tone says that it's no big deal, but her words speak volumes. 

He comes to stand beside her, looking at the car, leaving about six inches between their arms.

"Good," he responds quickly. "I mean, not that I _need_ you…" he backpedals. He says it jokingly, trying to maintain his normal nonchalance. He wants to tell her how glad he is that she's there without getting all serious. They don't do serious, not _on purpose_ anyway.

"But it's good," he concludes.

She suppresses a smile, because the message is coming through loud and clear. She's not used to this feeling... that someone wants her there. As much as she doesn't want to like it, she does.

They both turn their heads to look at each other at the same moment, both with small but meaningful smiles for the other. Their eyes have just said more in that second than their entire conversation so far. There's a connection between them unlike anything that either of them has with anyone else, even if they don't ever talk about it. They don't have to.

They look back at the burnt out car in front of them.

"You look nice. I see you changed your… thingy," Linden falters, referring to Holder's hooded sweatshirt. She motions to her neck area to indicate what she's talking about. It's been a long time since she remembers seeing him switch it out for a clean one.

"Mm-hmm," he says simply.

"And shaved. Kind of," Linden adds.

"Yup," Holder replies. "Even got a shower. Got to keep it _fresh_." He draws out the "sh" at the end of the word, and she smiles, looking up at him with amusement on her face.

"One step at a time," she deadpans.

They both looks back at the car ahead of them.

Holder examines the charred body again. "Damn, that's a crispy critter." 

"Let's do some work," Linden suggests.

"Yeah," he agrees. And just like that, they're back in their old groove once again, the way they both work best: together.

_Holder_

I honestly didn't think I'd see Linden today. Or tomorrow for that matter, or for a really long time after that either. I really thought that after everything with Seward, she'd take another self-imposed time out, quit the force again and hide out somewhere, or whatever the hell you wanna call what she did before, after the Rosie Larsen case. I guess I just assumed that she'd run, since it's generally how she deals with things.

So I guess you could say that seeing her at the crime scene this morning was a surprise. No, surprise would be an understatement. It was a shock. It's like all of a sudden she's back to her old self, the way she is when she's in the zone, which I sure as hell didn't expect. It had been a long time since I last saw her like that… Like she found a freakin' reset button or something. I mean, it's good, _really_ good, to see her look… happy? I guess that what happy looks like on Linden.

I wonder what made this time different, because she sure as hell seemed like she was about to break down there when Seward's stay was denied, or even before that, for that matter. Whatever it was that made her stay, I'm glad. I'd been expecting them to stick me with some dumb ass rookie today, and if she hadn't been there, they probably would have. It's just my luck.

So I was glad she was there because she saved me the trouble of breaking in a new partner, but not just that. Mainly, I'm glad she was there because… _she was there_. For once, she _didn't_ run. And even if she's _not_ quite as okay as she seemed… she was there. It's a victory for her, whether she knows it or not. Besides that, as obnoxious as she can be, I'm glad she was there because as dumb as it sounds, it's like I tell her… she's my BFF.

_Linden_

It's hard to surprise Holder, but obviously I did, and just by being here. I didn't think it was _that_ big a deal! But he _really_ thought I was going to leave after what happened with Ray Seward.

I mean, I guess I can't blame him for thinking that. It's a fair enough assumption, considering that running away _is_ kinda my thing. That was exactly what I did after the Rosie Larsen case… and I probably seemed _way_ farther gone this time than I did before I left back then. I know I've been off the deep end a little bit lately. Okay, I've been off the deep end a _lot_ lately. Okay, I'm pretty much off the deep end most of the time. But I'm doing my best.

I could say "It's this case, it just got to me…" But really, when I look back, it's pretty much every case. They draw me in and consume me… and I let them. Because it's easier that way.

In some ways I feel like I spend most of my time in that place… the one that everyone else kinda considers "crazy." It's scary how quickly it all just gets to be too much. People tell me that it's because I let it, but by the time I realize it, it's always too late… but it's better that way. I'd rather be consumed by work than any of my other demons.

Of course, I can't say I didn't consider running this time. Of course I did. It's pretty much my first instinct, and Holder knows it. I mean, he recognized that about me before I recognized it about _myself_. And dammit, I hate when he has to be right, like he knows me better than I know myself… even though he probably does, as scary as that is…

So as much as I _wanted _to run, somehow I just… didn't. I sat at my dining room table, put the files away where I didn't have to see them anymore – I mean, what's the point now? – and I just… sat. And I stared at the door, and told myself I could go if I needed to, like I had permission or something stupid like that… But it was weird, as if once I gave myself permission to go, I didn't need to anymore.

Of course, the only thing I've ever been running from is the stuff in my head… and in the few moments every once in a while when I can sit and be rational, I know it. I just… I wish it didn't all have to be so… _much._

…

Holder had gone by the office that he shared with Reddick – the same one he'd shared with Linden back in the day – for the first time since he'd shown up at Reddick's house and punched him in the face. He felt guilty when he saw Reddick packing his things, and wasn't surprised when Reddick had announced that he'd put in for a new partner. How could he blame the guy, after what had happened between them? Holder knew that he shouldn't have reacted that way after Bullet's death, but hindsight was 20/20.

They said what needed to be said, and Holder was amazed at how calm Reddick had been, and when he left, Holder had sat down in his desk chair and stared at the open doorway for what felt like a long time. He was having trouble finding the motivation to move. There was always more work to be done… and yet, he sat frozen to his chair, waiting for… what? He didn't know.

He had zoned out, he realized when he suddenly snapped out of the daze he'd been in, deciding that he needed to get out of his office and do _something_. Anything, really. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked into the hallway, toward the hubbub that surrounded the common areas of the station during the peak hours of the day. He stopped briefly at the vending machine for a bag of Funyons, his favorite snack, and continued walking.

Something caught his eye down the hall, and he realized that it was Linden, standing outside of Skinner's office. He squinted from down the hall, trying to figure out why she looked strange. Something was out of place about her… and then he realized what it was. Linden was… _smiling_. And not just a little bit. _What the hell is she grinning about_? he wondered. Linden's default expression was a serious one, and even Holder usually had to _try_ to get her to smile. Yet there she was, standing outside of Skinner's office, of all places, with a grin on her face. It just looked… wrong.

Despite how carefully he'd assessed the situation, he'd only been watching her for a few seconds. He continued to observe her, baffled by her behavior, and saw her smooth her hair with both hands, running them back over her head to the ponytail that always hung low in her hair. It was the kind of thing he didn't remember _ever _seeing Linden do before. She didn't care about her hair. Then she stepped forward into Skinner's office, leaving Holder completely confused.

_Wait, what just happened?_ Holder wouldn't exactly consider himself an expert on women, but he liked to think that he was a rather observant guy. After all, it was a big part of his job to be observant about people and their actions. What Linden had just done had been a self-conscious, nervous gesture if ever he'd seen one. _Linden and… Skinner?_ he thought, slightly shocked.

He'd been around the two of them plenty of times before and never seen anything out of the ordinary. The idea of Linden and _anyone_, really, was strange enough. Holder couldn't work it out in his head. Linden didn't like… _people_. She didn't open up to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, at least as far as he'd seen. Not that he didn't think she _should_. Hell, if Linden had found someone, then good for her…

So why did the idea leave a bad taste in his mouth? Linden and… _Skinner_. It felt wrong. Sure, he seemed like a decent enough guy from what Holder knew about him, with the exception of the fact that he was their boss, and that he was _married_. Not that Holder was in a position to judge other people's choices or anything, having made some very fucked up ones of his own…

But Holder's choices weren't on trial at the moment. When it came to Linden, well, she was his BFF. She made herself tough so she didn't shatter into a million pieces, but Holder knew that the cracks were always there. Skinner wasn't good enough for her. He couldn't think of anyone who was, really.

_You're thinking WAY too much about this, _said a voice in his head._ What's wrong? Are you __**jealous**__?_

His thoughts came to a crashing halt all of a sudden. _Am I? _he wondered for a few seconds. He decided that was impossible. It wasn't like that with him and Linden. After all, he was with Caroline. He felt protective of Linden because she was his friend and his partner – no matter whether they were _officially_ partners or not – and that was all it was.

Holder suddenly realized that he's been so consumed by his thoughts for the past few minutes that he'd ceased to hear what was going on around him. The sounds of the station – people talking, phones ringing, doors opening and closing – suddenly seemed to fade back in around him. He decided that he must be more exhausted than he'd thought.

He glanced up to see Linden still in Skinner's office, standing in front of him with that stupid grin still on her face.

"Holder," Collins called from down the hall. Holder looked over and nodded at the uni who was calling his name. "Coroner's got something on that body that came in this morning."

"OK, thanks," Holder called back, nodding at him again. He remembered the Funyons that he was holding and ripped them open as he walked slowly toward the open door to Skinner's office to retrieve Linden. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but Linden and Skinner weren't exactly talking in private. He distinctly heard the words "lake" and "fire" and "wine" as he approached the open door and knocked on it loudly. Whether she wanted him to or not, Holder had the urge to extract Linden from that situation as quickly as possible, for her own good.

"Uh… sorry," Holder said awkwardly. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to witness. "Collins said you were here." _Only a slight bending of the truth…_ he thought. "So, uh, the coroner's got something for us."

"Mm-hmm," Linden replied, then turned from Skinner to look at Holder to acknowledge what he'd said. She hoped that Holder would wait for her in the hall, but there he stood, crunching noisily on his Funyons. He was clearly waiting for her right where he was. As Linden turned back to Skinner, Holder pretended to be oblivious to what was taking place between them.

"Um, it's our case, so I should go," she told Skinner awkwardly.

"Yeah," he replied in a throatier than usual voice, or so it seemed to Holder.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll s-see you later," Linden said. Her continued awkwardness only confirmed Holder's suspicions.

"Yeah," Skinner replied again.

_A real conversationalist, this one, _Holder thought dismissively. Then, just as quickly, the other voice in his head asked, _And why do you care?_

Holder waited until Linden had caught up to him at the door before turning to leave, noticing that she turned around to glance back at Skinner even as she walked. _Damn, _he thought, _she has it bad._ He wasn't quite sure what to do about _that_ particular choice, but he had a feeling that there was going to be fallout. It seemed like unfortunately for her, there was always fallout when Linden was involved.

Only time would tell.


	47. Well Played

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Holder's weaving the car through the streets, with Linden in the passenger seat beside him. He has his left hand near his face, his thumbnail resting on his lip. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about what he saw at the station, and being as curious as he is, there will be no letting it go without first addressing the elephant in the room… or the car, as it were.

"So… um…" He looks over at her for a few seconds, then back at the road. "What up with you and the boss man?"

"Nothing," Linden says simply. She should have known this would happen eventually.

He gives her a look of disbelief.

"What?" she asks, knowing that he has called her bluff.

Holder playfully imitates Skinner, saying "Goin' to the lake. Makin' a fire." He draws out the ends of the last words of each sentence.

Linden smiles but admits nothing. She glances at the road ahead, then looks back at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," she tells him evenly, though she knows that he doesn't believe her.

"Aww, come on, Linden. I don't gotta be my sleuth par excellence to see that the cat's got the hand in the jelly jar. And it ain't the first time, neither."

She looks at his with a closed mouth smile, laughs, and looks back at the road. Holder lets out a laugh.

"We worked together, we were partners, and…" Linden trails off.

Holder playfully draws out the 'n' and almost leaves off the d sound as he repeats, "And… and… and…"

"And we…" Linden continues hesitantly, before stopping again.

"Ohhhhh…." Holder squeals with delight.

"Don't! Don't do that!" Linden protests.

"…Snaaaaaaaap!" Holder finishes. He honks the horn repeatedly in his excitement.

"Don't do that. Don't look at me like that," Linden asks in vain.

Holder chuckles. "How many times? One time? Two times? Three times? Stop me at any time, Linden. Four times? Five times?"

"You're such an idiot," Linden tells him with a smile.

"You are a _human being_. You're actual flesh and blood." Mock surprise is thick in Holder's voice.

Linden laughs, looking at him.

"I mean, I'm just as surprised as you are," he adds.

She lowers her gaze but looks straight up at him, deciding to turn the tables on this conversation and take the focus off of her. "You _jealous_?" Her tone is playful.

He's quiet for a few seconds, surprised by the question. Hadn't he just been asking himself that earlier? _I'm not jealous… am I?_

"Ohhh, well played, Detective Linden. Well played."

She laughs. "Alright. I'm gonna do some work if that's alright with you."

"Do your thing, 1-900," he replies in a sing-songy voice. They both chuckle.

_Holder_

I'm **not** jealous of Linden and Skinner. That would be pretty hypocritical if I was, considering I'm already dating Caroline…

No, it's not like that… and I might not be all that good at making smart decisions myself, but I sure as hell can see what a bad decision Skinner is for Linden. I mean, it's just so… _wrong_. I'm glad to see her taking part in the whole human experience and all, and having some personal interaction, because she certainly doesn't do much of that, but even so… I wish it wasn't with _him._

Start with the fact that he's _married._ Bad news. And he's our _boss_, for God's sake! Linden's setting herself up right there… unless… is that maybe part of _why_ she's doing it? Because she knows that he's unavailable? That he's wrong for her? Because she knows that she won't have to push him away, because she couldn't really _have_ him, even if she wanted him?

_Damn, that's messed up… _and it sounds like something that Linden would do.

Maybe she don't even realize she's doing it, but I'd be willing to bet that she_ would_. But with your boss? I know, it's easier for me to say it's wrong because I ain't attracted to him… if Caroline was my boss, would I feel different? Dunno. It's easy for me to say no, I wouldn't do that, but I don't really know that. You can't never really be sure what you'd do in another circumstance.

I get that her and Skinner have a past together. That they were partners. It's hard to picture that… something seems wrong about it. Like he took advantage of their being partners, and now he's taking advantage of the history between them. Kinda makes my skin crawl to think about them even bein' partners, much less…

Not that Linden's not a big girl. She can take care of herself, of course. But I can't help thinking it must've been him that initiated it… because Linden don't do feelings if she can help it. Or… maybe there's no feelings involved? I guess that could be… but deep down I don't think so, at least for her. Linden feels _everything_, _too _deeply, for better or for worse. I don't think she knows no other way to be.

Maybe Linden thinks this arrangement is better because she doesn't have to protect herself if she's with Skinner. He's familiar and unavailable, and maybe she thinks she can hold him far enough away that she can't get hurt. She may not think so, but I'd be willing to bet that if something went wrong between them, she'd still fall to pieces, even if it was just inside.

The thing about Linden is, yeah, she's strong, but at the same time, she's only ever hanging on by a thread. I get that about her. I don't know why I do, but I do. I guess maybe because there have been enough times when I was barely hanging on… and plenty of times when I _couldn't_ hold on.

Whether Linden wants me to or not, I'm watching her back. She deserves to have someone who's willing to do that for her for once, and I'd be a pretty shitty partner if I didn't care at least that much.

I'm _not_ jealous of the two of them, it just so happens that, this thing with Skinner… whatever it is, it's just all wrong.

_Linden_

Holder's so stupid.

OK, not stupid, stupid's the wrong word. He's ridiculous. I don't know why he's so interested in me and Skinner. I don't know why he's so giddy with the idea, why he's making such a big deal about it. It's _not_ a big deal. It was one time. Well, one time recently, anyway. It'd been years since the other times.

Even Skinner's acting all serious all of a sudden. I mean, I guess in a way it's a big deal to him, what he's doing… OK scratch that… I should say what _we're_ doing. He's married, though obviously not that happily. I guess it _should_ be a big deal to me, too. Whatever it is that we're doing. _Is _it a big deal to me? Should I even have to ask myself that question? If it _was _a big deal to me, wouldn't I _know_?

I guess this whole thing makes me a bad person. But then again, how many other things have I already done that make me a bad person? Plenty. I had to send my own son away to escape my incompetence as a mother, for Pete's sake! No, this is far from my worst mistake, _if_ that's what it is.

Okay, it's most likely a mistake…

So why did I do it? I don't know. All I _do _know is, it's nice to feel alone for once, even if being with Skinner may not be the best decision I could make… and I know that it's not. It wasn't something I went looking for, it just kind of… happened. We'd told ourselves, and each other, that it was over back then, but… I don't know. It _was_ over.

Now? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.

Either way, I get the feeling that Holder's gonna be a pain in the ass about it. I'd say that it bothers me, but in a way… it doesn't. I don't know _why_ he cares – I guess that's what _friends _do, and that's a new experience for me – but I like that he cares.

Not that I'd ever admit that to him.

…

"**What do you wanna do, let the state hang **_**another **_**guy who didn't do it?"**

Holder's words hung heavily in the air even after he'd abandoned the place beside where he'd been leaning back against the passenger side of the car. The words had come out before he'd had a chance to really think about what he was saying and what effect they would have on her.

He was angry and frustrated, and he knew that it had been the wrong thing to say. He'd simply been so shocked that Linden seemed to be suggesting that they should just let Joe Mills go down for murder. It was quickly becoming clear that he hadn't been the guilty one, not in the murder case, anyway. Sure, he was a pretty horrible human being and he did some reprehensible things with young girls, but he wasn't a _murderer._

The fact that Ray Seward had just been executed for the murder of his wife, despite Linden's last minute attempts to prove his innocence… all of it was still too fresh. Sure, Seward hadn't been an angel, he'd done bad things, maybe as bad as Mills had, and Linden hadn't been able to stop his execution. The Seward case had wrecked her, and Holder knew that better than anyone. He'd been there when she'd fallen apart over it, then now he'd turned around and used that knowledge, had thrown it back in her face. Now he felt like an asshole.

He sat in the driver's seat, focusing on breathing in and out and attempting to calm himself down. Linden remained in the same spot. He could see the smoke trailing from her cigarette blowing in the breeze. He could almost hear Linden blaming herself, reeling from the blow he'd dealt. He sighed deeply, guiltily, and tried to compose himself. He knew that he needed to calm down.

Linden stood and leaned against the car, feeling like her feet were frozen to the spot where she stood. Her only movement had been the arm that continued to raise and lower her cigarette, mechanically, without thinking. The rest of her had been immobilized by Holder's words.

Just when she thought nothing could cut her so deeply… something had. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, like she had been punched in the stomach – the physical pain she felt was that intense. Very few people had the ability to hurt her that way anymore, because she never let anyone get that close. Ever. And this was why.

She had let her guard slip with Holder, had made an exception for him, allowed herself to slowly relax her rigid walls around him, and this was what happened. She should have known better, she told herself. She should never have…

_Stop it, _a voice in her head told her. _It doesn't matter. Get over it. Really, it shouldn't surprise you. Eventually, everyone fails you. _She closed her eyes as her breath caught in her throat.

_Shut up!_ said another voice in her head. It was the one that usually lost the arguments, the one that always tried to reason with her when she shut down. It was the one she usually silenced, because listening to it meant giving people a chance, and in her experience that always seemed to end badly.

The voice continued, however, undeterred. _He didn't mean it. He snapped at you, but he's just frustrated. You're __**both**__ frustrated. You're in a bad situation, one with no good outcome. He's trying to help you do the right thing. Deep down, you __**know**__ it. _

The voice was pleading now, but it only made her hate it. She especially hated that the voice was _right_, and that she knew it. But even so, it didn't take away the sting of what he'd said. She threw the butt of her cigarette on the ground the crossed her arms over her chest tightly.

She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself. She remained standing there against the car for what felt like an achingly long time, but it probably only felt that way because her senses were on overdrive. Really, it was only a few minutes.

After many deep breaths to steel herself against whatever _else_ Holder might have to say, she was able to banish that stupid voice that she hated so much at that moment to the deep recesses of her mind. She hated that voice mostly for reminding her that however bluntly he'd put it, Holder was right. She couldn't let Joe Mills go to jail for a murder he hadn't committed, no matter what a filthy criminal he was. That would say more about her than it did about him.

She turned back around toward the car. Slowly she opened the passenger side door, climbed in and closed it behind her, staring straight ahead of her out the window. After all, they had work to do. She had to face him eventually.

"Let's go," she barked without looking at him. There wasn't a trace of emotion in her voice, and he hated himself a little bit more than he had the moment before. It wasn't his fault that the case was turning out the way it was, but that complete lack of emotion in her voice, that _was _his fault.

Holder knew that his words had been a low blow, the kind of thing he would have immediately jumped to her defense against if it had come from anyone else. Instead, it had come from him. He prided himself on being the one person who could get through to her, and he knew that he'd just abused that privilege.

"Linden, I—" he began.

"Don't." There was a dangerous edge to her voice, one that dared him to argue with her. "Just drive."

"No," he spat back emphatically. He'd done the damage, and he was going to do something about it. "Not until you listen to me."

She turned to look at him then. He'd expected her eyes to be blazing with anger. Instead, he was met with completely the opposite. There was a cool detachment that he recognized as Linden, but it wasn't the look that she usually gave _him. _It was the look she reserved for the rest of the world, and it knocked the air out of his lungs for a few seconds when he saw it directed at him.

"Fine. _Talk," _she said evenly, her eyes seeming to bore into him.

Holder shifted uncomfortably under her withering look. "Linden, I…" he tried again, but the look on her face had made the words temporarily fail him. It only took a few seconds, however, before he'd composed himself again. He wasn't _afraid_ of the look she was giving him, as others may have been, he'd just been taken aback by it.

He met her gaze, and this time he held it. "I'm sorry, Linden. It was a shitty thing to say." He paused, gauging her reaction.

She seemed surprised by his contrition, and she shook her head quickly, looking down at her lap. Suddenly, she seemed… what was it? It wasn't anger or detachment any longer. She seemed… _sad_.

"It doesn't—" she began, still looking down, but Holder cut her off. There were advantages to knowing her so well, and he knew exactly what she was about to say.

"Don't give me that crap, Linden. It _does_ matter." He paused again, and saw her look up in surprise. Sighing, he shrugged and put up his hands in surrender. "What can I say, I'm an asshole."

Then Linden did something quite unexpected. She smiled, just a little bit. She shrunched up her lips to one side and nodded her head, like she did sometimes when she was joking around. "Yeah, but you're my ride, so..."

Holder watched her, now completely confused. _What just happened?_

She watched his confusion with amusement, then pulled her face back into a smile. "We're good, Holder," she said simply. The cold look in her eyes was gone. She looked like herself again.

Holder quickly shifted into his trademark confidence, raising his chin at her jokingly and saying, " 'S cause I'm so charming, right? Ya just can't stay mad at me."

Linden couldn't help but chuckle at him then. "Yeah, something like that." She'd let him have that one. The feeling in her stomach of having been punched had almost disappeared, and she could breathe again. _I told you so_, said the voice in her head. Linden rolled her eyes at her own internal dialogue, before saying, "Can we get going now, please? We _do_ still have some work to do."

"Right, boss. Let's go!" Holder agreed as he started the car. They did indeed have work to do, and they were a team once again.


	48. A Runner

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

**Author's Note: I hate that it has taken me this long to update this story! My summer has been insane. I believe I've said before that I have no intention of abandoning this story before I reach the end of the show's story line, and I'm holding to that. I love these characters. I want to get them to the happy ending they deserve. First, of course, there's LOTS more drama to come! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!**

Linden and Holder are in the woods that Linden had identified on the map back at the car as being the ones closest to the Sewards' former apartment. They've been walking for a while, looking for a sign of the tree house that Ray Seward said that he'd built for Adrian. Holder's not seeing the point of wandering through the woods quite this far away from their crime scene. _What the hell are we doing out here? _he wonders. _There must be a better use of our _time.

But Linden is sure, and he knows better than to argue with her when she's made up her mind. Better to let her check out her theory. After all, it's uncanny how often she's right. Still, the farther they walk from the crime scene without finding anything, the more he's beginning to resemble a whining kid.

Linden continues walking briskly and silently ahead of him, caught up in her own thoughts. _There's something for us to find out here_. She just knows it. Holder lags behind reluctantly, hoping that she'll change her mind and turn back. Surely they're not going to find anything this far out.

"Hey, how much longer we gotta be out here?" Holder protests. "Anyway, it's over a _mile_ from here to the kid's apartment."

Linden is just as intense as ever, if not more so, and she doesn't slow down at all. If anything, she walks faster as she answers Holder, only giving him half a backward glance, and only once. She talks fast too, as if that will help them find what they're looking for sooner.

"Trisha and Ray used to fight all the time. There were dozens of domestic abuse calls. Adrian slept in a closet. He was lonely, scared," she reminds him, even though it wasn't really an answer to the question that Holder had asked.

"Still, a mile is a long way for a little kid," Holder protests, doubting that a kid would have fled so far into the woods on his own in the middle of the night at that age.

_A mile isn't that far when you're desperate to get away,_ Linden thinks to herself.

_It's not his fault, _she has to remind herself, _he just doesn't understand_. _I'm going to have to explain it to him. But how? How can I put that feeling into words?_

Linden turns around and stops suddenly, facing him. Her usual slower, more measured tone has been replaced by words that are coming out at almost rapid-fire pace. She's not angry, and her voice isn't any louder than usual, but there's an urgency that's not usually there. She needs Holder to understand that she knows what she's talking about.

"In my first foster home, the lady used to cry _all day long_, every day. I'd wait until I couldn't stand it anymore, until I thought that I was gonna explode if I stayed another minute, and then I'd run. Every couple days I'd run. And they would find me, and they would bring me back, and then I would run again."

She has just broken her self-imposed rule of not talking about her past, of not making herself vulnerable to anyone. There's no way she would've done it for anyone else, but even though she never wanted to, she has grown to trust Holder.

Holder, who is still lagging behind when Linden turns around, continues walking slowly forward as she speaks, and stops a few feet away. He watches her carefully, knowing that this confession isn't easy for her. It explains a lot about the Linden he knows in the present, why she's always so quick to push everyone away. It had started a long time ago.

They stand and look at each other for a few seconds as Holder digests what she'd told him and what it means for their current case.

It's as though she's answering the question that he'd asked her – it feels like a long time ago now – outside the prison. _"This is like a pattern with you, you know that? You always leavin', runnin'. You never stay… What the hell happened to you, Linden? Why you always takin' off?" _He'd been drinking at the time, or he probably wouldn't have asked her directly. In any case, now he has at least a little bit of the answer to that question.

_She's always been a runner_, he thinks. _Pushin' people away's just more of that same thing. Somethin' she does 'cause physically runnin' away ain't always possible when you're an adult. _

It suddenly all makes complete sense, but it also makes him sad. The two of them had had a rocky start, but these days they're good. No, they're more than good. They just seem to "get" each other. They've been through more than one crisis together. She's leaned on him, and he's leaned on her, and neither of them have backed away. Well, not permanently anyway. Somehow they keep each other in check, and there's the unspoken knowledge that they have each other's backs. He's even said so out loud when he thought she needed to hear it. It's a concept completely foreign to Linden… _friendship_. Holder jokes about them being "BFFs," but really, it's the truth.

And because they're such good friends, he hates to think about her feeling that desperate, now or in the past. He hates that there's really nothing he can do about it.

For a split second, he imagines her as a tough but scared little kid with a long, red ponytail, trying to hold everyone around her at arm's length, the same way she still does as an adult. What he sees in his mind is basically a mini version of the Linden her knows. It's bad enough that she'd ended up so damaged as an adult, but to imagine her that way as a kid, as well… It makes him feel even more protective of her than he already had. He hadn't really realized it until now, that that was how he felt. How had that been allowed to happen to her at such a young age? Sure, everyone has their baggage, but hers seems like an unfairly heavy burden just then.

He doesn't dare show any sign of these thoughts, of course, knowing how easily she's usually spooked by displays of emotion of any kind. He just watches her to see what comes next.

"Adrian's a runner, too," she says finally.

_Of course_, he thinks. _She can see it in him, because they're so much alike._

Linden turns around without another word and continues walking briskly along the path through the trees. Holder, who isn't used to Linden voluntarily sharing personal information, is still processing what he's heard. He follows her lead silently, still imagining Linden as a kid. It all makes sense, both what she'd said about herself, and the fact that she could read Adrian so well.

They walk a little further through the trees and emerge to find boards that form a ladder, nailed directly into the truck of a tree, leading up to a hand-made treehouse. _Adrian's treehouse. _

By now, Holder isn't surprised. Linden's intuition when it comes to her job is pretty astounding.

_Holder_

She's never talked much about her past, and I guess by now I just assumed that she probably wouldn't. Not anytime soon anyway. From what little she's said before, it kinda seemed like there's no happy memories there. I get why she wouldn't want to live in the past if the past was shit. Mine ain't all that great. But Linden's childhood makes mine look easy, and that's sayin' somethin'. Makes me wanna go back to that time and do something to fix it for her.

Not that I can do that, and not that I woulda been able to fix it if I'd been there. More like I'd fuck it up even more for her… My luck's never been much better than hers. Still… I just wish she didn't feel like she had to carry it all around with her all alone. I mean, the fact that she told me as much as she has is pretty amazing, knowing her as well as I do.

I know it's corny and a little weird, but sometimes, like now, I get the urge to hug her. She just seems like someone who needs a hug. She needs to let someone care about her, she just doesn't realize it. Of course, I don't actually hug her. I know better, because I'm pretty sure she'd beat the hell out of me if I tried.

Crazy thing is, all the fucked up things in her life seem to have made her crazy good at this fucked up job of ours. I consider myself a hard worker, I guess, but Linden makes me look like a slacker. She gives it _everything_ she has. She gives _too much,_ and it takes its toll on her. I know that she knows it, but it's like she can't stop it. There ain't no separation between work and the rest of her life, and when things don't work out – like her last second attempts to save Ray Seward's life – she's completely devastated. No wonder she walked away after the Rosie Larsen case. The problem is that she loves it, which was why she came back.

Well, that and she missed me terribly. Clearly, because who could resist what I got goin' on?

Nah, even though she tried, she can't separate herself from the job. It just kinda takes over her. She pushes away all the living people around her, but the cases – the dead people – she needs them. Maybe 'cause they can't reject her.

_Linden_

_A mile isn't that far when you're desperate to get away_. Does he really not get that?

No, of course he doesn't. Why would he? Holder's been through his fair share of shit, but this… this is my issue, not his. I've never really talked much about my past, so how would he know? I guess it's hard for me to remember that.

And I want to say that I've tried to get him to understand, but honestly, I don't try that hard. I mostly shut him out the same way I do to everyone else… Maybe I've gotten a little better, but I'm still not great at communicating with him. I like to think I'm not as bad as I was at back when we first started, but who knows? It's not that I don't trust him, because I do… logically, at least. I _know_ that he's there for me. He's the _only_ one who is. He has actually come out and said it to me. I _know _that he's a decent guy, maybe the most decent one I've ever met… and yet, I don't know. I just… _can't._ I don't know why.

I suck at communication, and I know it. Lucky for me, half the time I don't _have_ to explain things to him. Not as much as I _should_ have to anyway. Holder has this eerie, and frankly very irritating, habit of being able to read me. I guess sometimes I like it, but other times I hate it. But the alternative to him being able to read me isn't better, apparently, because I also hate having to stop and explain how I know something, when I just _know_. This is one of those times.

_When I was Adrian's age I would have easily run that far, even in the dark, if I were him. _It didn't fully occur to me that that wasn't normal until Holder seemed so shocked. I mean, I guess most kids would be scared to be out in the woods alone at night because they're scared of the dark, or bugs, or the boogeyman, or wild animals, or all of those things, or something else altogether. I guess most kids are more afraid of what's waiting for them _outside_ than what's happening around them _inside_ – inside their house, or inside their _heads_… but I wasn't one of them, and Adrian's not either.

_It's not Holder's fault, he just doesn't understand_. I guess I'm just going to have to keep explaining it to him. I'm going to try, anyway.

…

Holder had called in to the station as soon as Tess Clarke, Adrian's foster mother, had found the back door of the house wide open. She'd been angry to find them at her front door looking for Adrian when she'd arrived home, and skeptical of what they'd been telling her – that they needed to find her son immediately. However, Adrian's backpack was in the house, but the boy himself was nowhere to be found. And then the back door was found wide open, and things began to look serious. Linden had a sinking feeling that something bad had happened to Adrian.

Backup arrived a short time later, and the unis had started checking through the house for any other clues, any signs of foul play, anything that could help them find Adrian. One of the unis sat down to ask Tess some questions, while Linden and Holder slipped outside to wait for Skinner.

Linden was pacing on the front porch, and the noise from her deliberate footsteps echoed loudly in the afternoon stillness of the neighborhood. Holder watched her from where he was leaning against the side of the house for a few minutes before he decided that maybe they should wait by the street. Tess and Linden didn't exactly have a friendly history, and both of them were pretty worked up at the moment. The noise that Linden was unconsciously making might not help. Calming Linden down in this situation would be a lost cause and he knew it, but he had a shot of getting her to at least get a little further from the house.

"Linden," Holder said loudly, trying to pull her out of her thoughts. She stopped pacing and looked up quickly, seeming confused, as he motioned with his head to the front walkway. Pushing himself off the side of the house, he started walking calmly up the walkway, towards the street. For once, Linden didn't ask questions, she just followed him. He tried to project calm, hoping that it would rub off on her.

At the street, the presence of the squad cars were drawing some attention from passersby. Linden couldn't pace in the street, so she stood on the curb and fidgeted with whatever was in the depths of her pockets, bouncing slightly. Holder stood on the curb a few feet away, watching her.

"Skinner'll be here any minute," he said, glancing down the street to check for his arrival. Not that he was sure what good that would do. He couldn't decide if their boss' presence would calm Linden down or not, considering their… well, whatever it was that was going on with them. _Then again_, he thought, _I doubt anyone could calm Linden down right now._

"Yeah," Linden replied absently. Holder couldn't tell if she'd even really heard what he'd said.

"He's gonna be ok, Linden," he said, referring to Adrian. Of course, Holder had no way of knowing that, and they both knew it. Still, he felt like he needed to say it, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince: her, himself, or maybe both of them. "He ain't no little kid no more. Not like he was when his mom died. He's smart, a fighter. Maybe… maybe he saw something that spooked him, and he just ran."

Linden looked up at him as if she was giving the idea serious consideration.

"You said he's a runner, so…" Holder trailed off, unsure of how plausible it was. _Would the kid have left the door wide open? Surely he was old enough to have been taught not to do that. He's not four years old. You'd think that the only way an older kid would do something like that was if he was in real danger…_

She nodded her head slowly, and suddenly he could see the wheels in her head turning. He hoped she wasn't going to do that thing she sometimes did where she seemed to read his thoughts. It would just worry her more.

"…maybe he just got spooked and ran…" she said quietly, finishing his sentence. She tilted her head slightly as she paused to consider it. _It's possible_, she thought, and felt the tension in her lessen just a tiny bit.

Holder shrugged and exhaled heavily. "Ain't like he's never done it before."

_Holder has no more of an idea about whether Adrian's okay than I do,_ she thought, suddenly annoyed. _If anything, he has less of an idea than I do, because I understand Adrian better than he does._

Suddenly, the other voice in her head piped up. It was the one that gave people the benefit of the doubt, and the one she didn't listen to often. _Maybe so, but you don't __**know**__ that something's happened to the kid. Holder knows you're worried, and he's just trying to reassure you._

"Yeah," she replied again, and gave him a very slight smile. If nothing else, she appreciated that he was trying to reassure her.

The smile faded almost as quickly as it had come, but it hadn't escaped Holder's attention. Getting a smile from Linden most days was tough, though maybe not as tough as it had been back when they'd first met. Still, it was an accomplishment.

After that, Linden seemed to go back into her own little world. Holder continued to watch her, but said nothing. What could he say?

Headlights in the street and the rumble of a car engine signaled Skinner's arrival, and they stepped towards the car as soon as it stopped. They would brief Skinner, then they'd get to work figuring this thing out.

Adrian _had_ to be OK. Holder was worried about the kid, of course, but besides that, he hated to think about what it would do to Linden if he something happened to Adrian. They _would_ find him. He just hoped that they would find him in time.


	49. This Isn't Happening

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Linden and Holder have finished talking to Skinner, telling him their theory about the perp actually being a cop, which Skinner asks them to keep to themselves for now. It makes sense, because something like this is a _big_ deal. You don't just go accusing cops of being serial killers. You need absolutely iron-clad proof, which they don't yet have. Otherwise, careers are ruined. Theirs, and quite possibly yours, too.

Now they're on the move again. Linden and Holder get out of their car and start walking along the sidewalk toward the station, as Linden updates Holder on the phone call she just finished. The DOT's going to send them traffic camera footage from between the school and Adrian's house as well as the neighbor's house. Linden suggests that maybe they'll get a hit on Reddick's car.

Though he's not supposed to, Holder calls Reddick. As he expects, his former partner doesn't pick up his phone. Linden reminds him that he's not supposed to be calling Reddick anyway. Holder says that after they check the footage he'll take a drive because he has a feeling Reddick's "holed up."

That's when it happens, when it all starts to unravel, though they don't realize it until a little while later.

They're about to walk into the station when they're approached by two serious looking men in suits, both also wearing trench coats. They could be lawyers.

But they're cops. "Detective Holder?" asks the first man. He's about Holder's height. The second man is a little shorter, though still taller than Linden.

"Yeah, what up?" Holder replies, not backing down as the man steps into his personal space.

"I'm Investigator Alvarez," he nods towards his partner, who speaks up.

"Guggenheim. Internal Affairs. We need to speak to you, Detective."

"About what?" Holder asks, confused.

"If you'd just come with us…"

"What's going on?" Linden interjects, though no one's looking at her.

"Another time, boys, I'm working a job right now," Holder says apologetically but forcefully.

Holder tries to walk past them, but Alvarez holds his hand up with his fingers spread wide, holding his hand firmly against Holder's chest to block him.

"So are we," Alvarez insists.

"And you don't wanna walk in there in cuffs," Guggenheim glances over his shoulder through the glass doors of the police station and back again, "do you, Detective?"

"Why are you stopping him? On what grounds?" Linden is equally confused about why they're stopping Holder. She's calm, however, at least at the moment. The guys from IA continue to ignore her.

Holder glances down at her quickly. "I got this, Linden. I'll catch you in a few." He's annoyed, but not worried. After all, he has no reason to be worried, as far as he knows.

Guggenheim heads through the doors as Holder follows, with Alvarez behind him.

"I'll call Skinner. He'll clear it up," Linden assures them as they walk into the station. Linden stands on the sidewalk and dials her phone, holding it up to her ear and looking stony-faced into the street beyond the sidewalk as she waits for the connection. She glances quickly over her shoulder into the station, then back out into the distance, not really seeing the scene in front of her. This is _not_ what they need right now. They need to be finding Adrian.

…

It's when Holder tells Alvarez and Guggenheim that they can call Skinner if Reddick's been feeding them "BS" that it suddenly becomes clear what's happening. When they tell him that it was actually _Skinner _who filed the complaint against him, and that it had happened only just before they'd picked him up. _After he and Linden had talked to him, and told him that they thought they were looking for a cop._

It wasn't Reddick after all. It was fucking _Skinner._

_And Linden was out there, possibly with him._

He had to warn her. He _had _to. He could only imagine what Skinner would do. He had long since proved what he was capable of doing. Of the _horrible _things he was capable of doing. His mind couldn't even process the horror of the things that could happen to her at the hands of that psychopath. He flashed back to Bullet, and for a second he thought he was going to throw up.

_Linden._

_NO._

He managed to pull his mind back to the present. _He had to get out of here_. It was at that second that he understood what he had to do. These IA guys, they would be easy to play. So he made up some shit about putting a bomb on Reddick's car. The IA guys had to check it out, of course, and he knew Reddick well enough to know that he'd storm into the station, pissed as all hell, and want to tear Holder a new one. It would be perfect.

It would get him out of here. He only hoped it would happen in time to warn Linden.

_Please_, let him be in time.

And like clockwork, less than thirty minutes later, Reddick did indeed come banging into the station, pink with anger and screaming about how the bomb squad had been all over his car and scared his wife and kid to death. He bellowed at the top of his lungs as he demanded to see Holder. He yelled at the IA guys, told them they were idiots. Holder listened with satisfaction from the other room as Reddick told them to cut Holder loose. Sometimes his brilliance even impressed himself.

But he couldn't dwell on congratulating himself just then. The first second that he was allowed to, he had his phone to his ear and had speed dialed Linden's phone. It rang. And it rang. And it rang. And he got her voicemail.

_FUCK._

He felt desperation, not knowing where she was or if she was safe. Everything made sense now, and he was terrified that Linden had figured it out too late… or that she hadn't figured it out yet, and that Skinner would get to her, would take her somewhere, before she figures it out. That something will happen to her.

_No. He can't let anything happen to her._

Holder was on his way out of the station, walking behind Reddick down the hallway, getting Linden's voicemail, _again_, as Reddick turned around and punched him in the face. Reddick was pissed at him, and Holder couldn't blame the guy. He knew he'd put Reddick through a lot of shit recently, and that it wasn't his fault that things had gone down the way they had. If he was Reddick, he'd be pissed too.

He told Reddick that he knew that what he did was a "whack move," but that he _had_ to get out of there. He told him that he needed help, and Reddick was all ready to tell him to go to hell. There was no way he was going to help Holder, not ever again. The guy'd clearly lost his mind, Reddick thought, and for whatever reason he seemed to be determined to take him down with him.

But then Holder told him that Adrian Seward was missing, and dammit, Reddick couldn't _not_ go and look for the kid. It wasn't to help Holder so much as to help the kid. As pissed off as he was, Reddick was a good cop and a decent guy. Yes, he'd go look for the kid.

Holder was relieved, because whether Reddick was going to look for Adrian or not, Holder was going after Linden. Sure, he was worried about the kid. That's how this whole situation started. But if he had to choose between Adrian and Linden… well, there was just no choice. True, they may have been in danger from the same psychopath, but the perp – _Skinner _– had had plenty of chances to kill Adrian, and he hadn't. Obviously he didn't feel too desperate to get rid of the kid.

Now Linden, on the other hand, once Linden figured out what's going on, and Skinner figured out that she knew… Holder shivered at the very thought about what would happen to her. It wasn't the same as Adrian. He was a kid, he was there when it all went down, but he didn't seem to know what had happened. And besides, most people didn't believe kids anyway, they assume they're imagining stuff.

But Linden… she was a cop, and she was relentless. Skinner had been her partner, so he knew that better than anyone else, besides maybe Holder. Holder liked to think that he knew her better than that asshole. No, he _did_. Skinner may have thought he knew her, may have thought he understood her. At one time, maybe he had. But he's a psychopath, and she wasn't the same person she'd been back in their day. There was no way he knew her better than Holder did.

Holder was in the men's room at the station. It'd only been a few minutes since Carl punched him, and he'd just gotten his nose to stop bleeding. He knew that he deserved that punch, and any other time he would have been totally fine with it, but _goddammit _right now he didn't have time to waste! His mind was racing as he threw the paper towel that he'd pinched against his nose, now full of blood, into the trash. Scrubbing his hand quickly across his face and through his hair in the mirror, he tried to focus enough to think rationally.

_Think, Holder_. Where do you start? He'd glanced into Skinner's office already as he'd walked past, and the man hadn't been there. If he had, he was pretty sure that Linden would have been in there with him. Not as a social call, either. Linden was single-minded when she was on a mission, and she would have been in there hounding him to do something to help Holder. _SHIT_. His mind jumped again to the danger his partner was in, and he had to grip the sides of the sink in front of him and force himself to breathe.

_Think, Holder, _he told himself again. Where would Skinner be? He figured that his house was as good a place to start as any, which he confirmed when overhearing someone say that Skinner had left with some sort of family emergency as he neared the man's office to check there again. With a destination now in mind, he nearly took out several confused looking unis as he barreled his way down the hall and burst through the front doors of the station. He ran to the car that the two of them had arrived in together only a short time ago – an hour, maybe?

_Dammit, Linden_, he thought feverishly. He knew without having to be told that she'd gone to find Skinner when she hadn't found him at the station, and probably hadn't picked up his phone. _Yeah, he didn't pick up his phone because he's a fucking murderer who's planning to run away_. This thought didn't help his state of mind, thinking of his partner at the mercy of this man that she trusted completely. _Not only did she trust him, but she… they…_ he shuddered. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He tried again, for what felt like the thousandth time, to call her, but once again her phone rang until the voicemail picked up.

_This is not happening. It can't be._ Of all the times she'd been in danger before, he'd never felt so powerless to help her. He had to find them. _He had to._

Before it was too late.


	50. On Her Own

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Linden knocks on Skinner's front door.

No one answers, so she tries the doorknob. It's unlocked, and she opens the door a few inches and peeks her head in. She's not in the practice of just walking into other people's houses, but this is no time for hesitation or politeness. Holder's in trouble, and she _has_ to find Skinner and get him to fix it. And of course, Adrian's missing as well… so forget politeness.

"James?" she calls, as she steps through the door and closes it behind her. She's hoping that his wife, Jen, isn't home, because this could be _really_ awkward…

The living room is empty, and she pauses for just a few seconds looking into it. It always feels a little strange to look around in other people's homes, especially the ones with families. Those people that have all those things that she herself had never had… Not just a house, but a _home._ A family...

She feels a twinge somewhere deep within her that she quickly suppresses. _It's fine,_ she tells herself, _I don't want that. Any of it. _The other voice in her head pipes up then. _Holder would call bullshit, and you know it._ _In fact, he already did, that day outside the prison._

_Fuck you,_ she tells the voice angrily, but keeps herself calm on the surface. This is no time to be pining for things that she'd never had. It is what it is.

She has only taken a few steps down the hall leading away from the front door before she hears movement upstairs. She turns back, looks up the staircase and pauses, then walks up quietly. In one of the rooms at the top of the stairs she finds Skinner, putting folded clothes into a suitcase.

Her hand grips the doorknob of the open door as she steps into the room. "What are you doing?" she asks quietly.

He turns his head quickly at the sound of her voice, surprised to see her there behind him.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" he asks, momentarily confused.

"Holder was taken by IA. I've been calling you," she says quickly. "They won't let me see him. You've got to get him out." She walks forward into the room as she speaks, so that she's standing just behind him. He turns back to what he had been doing, moving more clothes from the bed to the suitcase and smoothing them down.

"Yeah, I'll, uh, yeah… I'll take care of it." There's no urgency in his voice, however. He takes a step away from her to smooth something in his suitcase, but she takes that step almost in synch with him, staying just as close as she had been before he had moved, and removes a folded paper from a pocket inside her jacket.

"The traffic cams show that there was a gray car stalking Adrian." She unfolds the paper and he looks up, watches over her shoulder as she does. "Here," she indicates on the blurry photo, "and here."

He barely glances at where she's pointing, and instead turns and walks across the room. "It could be anyone's car," he replies, and she now realizes that his voice is devoid of any hint of worry or interest. She looks at him, taken aback. "Doesn't mean it's Reddick's, right?" he adds as he takes something off the dresser behind her, then walks back across the room to place it in his suitcase. She can't believe her eyes or her ears, and for a second she just stares at him.

He's now zipping his suitcase as she asks, "So after all this, it really does come down to your career? Your reputation? Reopening the case would be too messy?"

Skinner turns and looks at her. "You have _no idea_ what I'm thinking." He walks past her again, back to the dresser across the room.

"OK, so tell me, because I don't – I don't understand." Her voice is beginning to shake. _No! He has to do something! _her mind is screaming.

"I just gotta get out of here. Things have blown up with Jen. I just – just can't get into it right now."

Linden's trying to get Skinner to focus on the case. "James, right now we need to find this car. We need to find _Adrian_."

"And we will. I promise." She has never seen anyone so unconcerned, so clearly just humoring her, in her life, and she's quickly getting frustrated with him. This was not what she expected.

"I don't understand why you're not _doing_ anything!" Her frustration shows in her voice.

Suddenly he's no longer annoyingly calm, and he snaps at her. "Because the case you and Holder made against Reddick is appallingly weak and circumstantial at best. Accusing a fellow cop without hard evidence? I mean, I'm _surprised_ at you, Sarah. You used to be a _thorough_ and _careful_ detective!"

_Used to be_. Those are his words. Linden can't argue with people that find fault with her parenting skills, or even her ability to make good decisions in her personal life, because God knows she makes some of the worst ones possible. But this is different. Skinner's questioning her competence at her job, and that's the one thing in her life that she's actually _good_ at. The words sting, and she's silent for a moment as she absorbs them.

She draws her lips into a tight line and looks down before looking back up at him. "I'm sorry you feel that way," she replies simply, though she wants to scream. She holds in the wave of emotion that she feels, putting the folded papers back into her pocket, and turns to go. _Fuck you, Skinner, _she thinks. _I was an idiot to think that he'd do anything to help. _He's just one more person who has disappointed her, and she curses herself for giving him that power in the first place. For letting him in.

Skinner turns as she starts to leave the room. "Listen," he says. "Wait… wait, wait." She turns back around and looks up at him, curious what he can possibly want to say at this point.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just having a horrible day. I'm just trying to keep it together, you know?"

She looks up at him, stone-faced. The walls are up. She's not going to let any more of his words surprise her, cut into her the way the ones he's just said already have.

"And I believe you." He has taken small steps toward her to close the distance between them as she has continued to stare at him, her face hard. He puts a hand on her shoulder as he says, "Of course I do. I believe you." The look on her face softens slightly. His face is only inches away from hers.

"You need to call IA," she begins again, softly. Her hand hooks around the elbow of his arm that's still extended, his hand still on her shoulder.

"Yeah," he says simply, his tone once again soft. They both lean back slightly, so that their faces are not so close together. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, she overreacted slightly, that he'll help her figure it all out.

Minutes later, the two of them are walking down the stairs to leave, Linden in front, when the front door opens to reveal Jen and Bethany Skinner. Linden knows it's about to get ugly, and she's right.

Jen continues through the entryway, farther into the house, disgusted at finding Linden there with her husband. Skinner talks to his daughter while Linden stands awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching everything unfold before her.

And that's when it happens.

Linden's standing there, trying to be invisible, watching this incredibly uncomfortable scene between Skinner and his teenage daughter, who's crying and hugging him, when suddenly, there it is. It's as though there's a spotlight shining on a blue ring on Bethany's index finger. The same ring that Linden has stared at in a giant, enlarged picture on the board in the Task Force Room for what feels like years now. She would know that ring anywhere. Its former owner is dead, and it has disappeared… taken by the man who killed her. The man who is not Joe Mills. The man who is not Carl Reddick.

That man is James Skinner. Her_ boss._ Her former _partner_. Her _lover_, past and present. The man who is more than likely responsible for Adrian's disappearance.

The man who is standing right in front of her, who doesn't yet know that he's been discovered.

As Skinner hugs his sobbing daughter, it's all Linden can do not to tackle him to the ground right then and there. It's for the best that he's distracted at that moment, because she's unsure that she could have reacted if he'd read her face and tried to subdue her… because if he'd been watching her, he would have seen the change come over her. He would've known. Known immediately that she knew. As closed as she is, there are certain things that she can't close off completely. Those one or two people who actually _know_ her can get a lot from the looks on her face. And unfortunately, he knows her.

Her vision has tunneled to the point of bright blue on Bethany Skinner's finger. She no longer hears the words that either of the two people standing in front of her are saying. The ring is in sharp focus, while the two Skinners in front of her make up one large, fuzzy shape. Her brain is simply overloaded. It cannot process all of the information it is receiving and what it all means. Her ability to hear and see clearly returns only slowly as Skinner tries to pacify his daughter, then attempts to extricate himself from the scene.

So far he hasn't noticed any change in Linden, but he hasn't looked at her yet. His focus is still on getting out the door. She knows it won't be long. She tries to nudge her brain into action, but it's still stuck.

_Skinner. Is. The. Killer._

He picks up his suitcase from where it's sitting on the bottom step by her feet, and pauses to let her walk out the front door, still open from when Jen and Bethany came in, ahead of him. He follows her out and closes the door, and she's acutely aware of his presence behind her.

_The killer. One step behind her. _

She knows that she has to remain absolutely calm. Skinner may be the killer, but he's anything but stupid, and he knows her. She _hates _it, but she knows that it's true. She has to keep herself calm, not give anything away, if she wants to have any chance of finding Adrian… and, she realizes a second later that she's probably in danger herself, as well. Not that she can't hold her own in a fight, but he's bigger than her, and stronger. Depending on the situation… _No_, she thinks. _Focus._

"That was awful, I'm sorry," he says in his normal soft and raspy voice. He walks past her down the stairs from the small porch to the front walkway, carrying his suitcase. She stands on the top step, still shell-shocked despite her best efforts to get herself together. She's been in a lot of tough situations before, but this one… this one is different, and her brain just _won't _cooperate, won't think rationally.

_This is not happening… _except that it is.

She walks down the steps behind him in slow motion. He still hasn't looked at her since her discovery. She knows that it's only a matter of seconds. That he's going to turn around, and he's going to know. She knows that her eyes give too much away, and she hates that about herself. Sometimes, lots of times, she can turn it off, mask it with a cold steeliness that's unreadable to most of the world. But not now... though goddammit, she's trying.

Everything is moving in slow motion. Her feet, finally moving down the stairs to the walkway. Skinner, walking in front of her to his car, parked at the curb ahead of them. An ice cream truck goes by, and Linden only very vaguely hears the melody it plays. A sprinkler spins, throwing water across the grass on the other side of the street. A child rides by on his bike. These rhythmic sounds blend into the rest of the noises around her, all of which sound wrong. It's as though the sounds around her are not just in slow motion, but also distorted, as though she's underwater. Her brain simply isn't returning to full processing speed, no matter how hard she tries to force it to do so.

Finally, Skinner has put his suitcase in the backseat of his car and closed the door. He turns around and looks at her, still moving in slow motion. She has moved forward on autopilot, and is now standing halfway between his front porch and his car, staring at him… and she knows that he can read it on her face as clearly as if she'd been wearing a sign that said it in words. _He_ knows that _she_ knows that it was him.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, but is actually only a few seconds. Now it's a matter of survival. She _has to_ get ahold of herself. The sounds fade back in around her, and suddenly she is aware of her surroundings again. She can again hear the sprinkler across the street, and the world is moving at normal speed. The look on his face has hardened, and she can feel every muscle in her body tense, knows that the look on _her_ face has hardened as well. She wishes that she wasn't so damned transparent.

With a swift movement, she pulls out her gun and holds it trained on him as steadily as she can. He doesn't look afraid, not even bothered. She wants to say he almost looks… What is it? Amused? Exasperated? Disappointed? _Relieved_?

"You want to see him alive, you'll come with me," he says simply, calmly, looking off down the street in the direction the car is facing. He doesn't sound stressed, not even annoyed. It's as though he was telling her he'd seen a squirrel down the street, or something equally trivial.

He hands over his gun when she asks for it, and doesn't resist when she pats him down, still pointing her own gun at him the best she can. He doesn't try to stop her, even though he can see her shaking slightly. He seems to want her to go with him enough that he isn't bothered by how it happens. After all, even with the gun, she's not really in charge.

She asks him again where Adrian is, but he doesn't answer. He seems cocky about it, even.

_He really is a psychopath,_ she thinks.

She orders him into the car, and they drive off, her gun still pointed at him from where she's pushed her back up against the passenger side door beside him. She can think of nothing but getting Adrian back safely. She knows the danger she's putting herself into by getting into the car with him, instead of arresting him, as she'd almost done a moment before, and calling it in like procedure dictated. Calling in for _back up. _Asking for help, the thing she loathes most in the world.

Would an arrest have even held up? Arresting her own boss, a Lieutenant on the police force? It sounds completely ridiculous, even to her. Besides, Skinner knows their case and all the evidence, knows that their case is weak, and he'd probably be released… no one would believe her. And once he got out, he'd run, he'd disappear. No, if she doesn't act now, and they might never find Adrian.

She doesn't have a choice. She'll do it on her own.

Still, she wishes fleetingly as they drive away that IA hadn't taken Holder. It occurs to her only then that Skinner had probably arranged for Holder to be picked up once he'd found out how close they were getting, so that she'd be without backup. And it had worked, because she's there at his mercy. That's the problem - Skinner knows her, knows that she'll do anything to get Adrian back, that she won't follow protocols or call for back up if she thinks it'll hurt her chances of solving her case... which she does, of course.

_Dammit._

She's half tempted to try to signal Holder somehow, like she had when she'd been forced to drive around the city by Pastor Mike that night ... but how? Skinner is smarter than Pastor Mike had been, and he's a cop. Anything she might do, Skinner would see, and who knows if he would tell her where Adrian was then… She needs to let him stay in control for now, or at least to feel like he's in control.

_Is_ he the one in control? Or is she? Despite the fact that she's the one with the gun, she feels like anything but the one who's in control.

She knows that Holder will go absolutely crazy when he finds out what she's doing. He cares more about her safety than she does herself, and she knows it. She hopes that he'll find a way out of the IA mess on his own. Knowing Holder, he'll think of _something. _She'll never admit it to him, but he really is a genius sometimes. She could never tell him that, though, because she'd never hear the end of it.

No, all she can do now is sit in that car with the man that she'd thought she'd known, this psychopath who'd been someone else all along… pointing a gun on him and hoping that he'll lead her to Adrian.

And what then? She has no idea. Will he hurt her? There's no way to know, but that isn't even her primary concern. All she knows is that she has to find Adrian, or hope that Holder will find him… and maybe, that he'll find _her_ as well, like he always does.

Before it's too late.


	51. The Lake House

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Holder beats mercilessly on the Skinners' front door, over and over, until Jen, the Lieutenant's wife, opens it. She looks concerned about why a stranger is pounding so hard on her door, until he tells her who he is and why he's there. Her concern then turns to annoyance at the mere mention of her husband. She tells him that Skinner left twenty minutes ago, and that she doesn't know where he's going. She tries to slam the door in his face, but he wedges his foot in front of it to stop her.

"Ask his girlfriend," she tells Holder bitterly when he asks her again, more forcefully, where her husband is, "and get your foot out of my door before I break it," she adds, venom dripping from every word.

Holder looks confused, then asks, "Wait, his girlfriend? You're talking about Detective Linden?"

"Yes, _her_," Jen spits in disgust.

"She was here? They left together?" He steps back from the door, looking surprised.

"Yes," she hisses, and closes the door without another word.

Holder turns to leave, but he gets as far as the front steps, only a few feet away, before he stops. His phone is already flipped open and he's holding it up to his ear, looking out at the street absently as he tries to think of where the two of them could have gone, when it hits him.

He has a pretty damn good idea where he'll find them. Standing there on the steps, he's just had a flashback to teasing Linden about a conversation she was having with Skinner that he'd overheard, in the other man's office, when he'd been trying to convince Linden to come to his lake house to relax... _the same day they'd caught the body of Angie Gower, the one that made everything fall into place for them._ It was her body that set them on the path to figuring out that the killer is a cop. If she'd taken Skinner up on his offer, or if they hadn't gotten that case when they had… they might not have figured it out, might not have gotten so close so fast. Linden might not have been in danger right now.

_Too many fuckin' "if"s! _he thinks, trying to sift through his thoughts.

He remembers sitting beside her in the car, teasing her. _"Goin' to the lake. Makin' a fire,_" he had said mockingly, out of Skinner's earshot.Linden hadn't been able to help but smile, looking embarrassed at having been called out.

If Skinner's taking her somewhere now, if he wants somewhere remote… that lake house might be it.Adrian may or may not be there. Skinner and Linden may or may not be there. Anyway, it's somewhere to start. It's somewhere no one else will know to check… except him, and that's reason enough to start there, as far as he's concerned.

For a split second, Holder also remembers the smile that Linden gave him after his singsong imitation of that conversation. It had seemed so ridiculous to him. Linden… at a lake house? Linden… relaxing _anywhere_? Maybe that's part of the reason the whole thing between Linden and Skinner has always seemed so ridiculous to him. Linden doesn't _do_ relaxing. Why does it seem like no one knows that about her? How is he the only one who sees that?

_People see what they want to see most of the time, _the voice in his head chimes in helpfully.

_Well, she doesn't belong at a lake house any more than she belongs in Sonoma_, he replies to the voice. He's sure of that.

_So where does she belong? With you? _The first voice asks. He doesn't have an answer.

He feels so many things at once then, watching her smile play again in his mind's eye as if it's a recording stuck on a loop. Anger. Frustration. Worry. Fear. She'd trusted Skinner, and Holder had been glad to see her happy, even though he hadn't liked the whole thing. It isn't necessarily a great decision to sleep with your married boss, but you certainly shouldn't have to worry about him being a serial killer of children!

_If I had done more to protect her_… he thinks miserably, but the thought is gone almost before it has time to form. He's going to do something about it. He's going to fix this, to find her.

He closes his phone and whips back around and steps back up to the door. He bangs on it again, only slightly less aggressively than the first time. Jen answers angrily this time, opening the door quickly and demanding, "What is _wrong _with you?" He supposes that it's a fair question, considering how he's acting and how little she knows about what's going on.

But there's no time to tell Jen Skinner a single bit of what would be a long and quite frankly, completely unbelievable story, so Holder gets right to the point. He simply asks her, without any pleasantries, "Where's the lake house?"

"The lake house?" she echoes back at him, completely confused. The look on her face is baffled and hostile, and she doesn't look inclined to tell him. He can't really blame her, because in her shoes he'd been equally as lost and definitely just as pissed off by this point. But Holder just nods impatiently, his mind screaming _Yes, lady, I just asked you where the fucking lake house is, and you'd damn well better tell me before I lose what little patience I have left._ He's trying very hard not to grab the woman by the front of her shirt and shake her. He does_ not _have time for this.

"Yes, the lake house. Your husband has mentioned it. I have reason to believe that he may have gone there. It's urgent that I find him, immediately, and he's not answering his phone. So would you _please_ just give me the address?" Holder's barely holding it together enough to explain that little bit of what's happening, but he knows that talking to Jen Skinner is the fastest way to get the information that he needs. He drops the aggressive edge from his voice – or tries to, anyway – and now seems to almost be pleading, in his eyes if not as much in his voice. "Someone's life is in danger, and the only way to save them is to find him," he adds, taking care not to mention _whose _life is in danger. It wouldn't be surprising if she didn't feel much sympathy for Linden right now.

Jen's face softens slightly as Holder eases up, though she still looks more than a little annoyed. She sighs heavily before saying, "I'll write it down for you. Let me get a pen."

Holder's about to tell her that he doesn't need it written down, that he's not going to fucking forget something so important, but Jen leaves him standing at the front door, which she pushes closed. At least she doesn't slam it in his face this time. She's back only about ten seconds later, handing him a scrap of paper.

"Here," she says, shoving the paper at him. "I don't what's going on, but that's the address. As far as _I _know, he hasn't been out there in a year, at least. But then again, what the hell do I know? He's only my husband." Sarcasm drips from her voice, but Holder knows it's not directed at him, and he ignores it.

He takes the slip of paper and looks at it. He's going to have to look up the street name, but he's heard of Lake Sawyer, which is scrawled neatly at the bottom. Despite how she has acted towards him, he feels badly for Jen Skinner. She has no idea what her husband has been doing for God knows how long, or what a sick bastard he really is. She's collateral damage in the fucked up mess that Skinner has created, and when she finds out what he's done, it's going to hit her hard. Luckily for her, she seems to be a pretty tough woman.

He glances up and as he nods his thanks, she's already slamming the door in his face once again. He's not bothered by it, however, because he has what he came for. He sprints back to his car and pulls out a map from the glove compartment, cursing the department's resistance to the whole smart phone technology movement. This would be _so _much easier if he had a phone with GPS. _Cost saving measures, my ass_, he thinks as he plots his course_._

…

He's been driving for what feels like forever, and it's now pitch black outside. He's left Linden voicemail after voicemail. This time, when he gets the recording again, he simply says, "Call me back," and hangs up. He's attempting to navigate in the dark, with the map spread across the steering wheel. Glancing at it as he drives, he thinks he knows where he needs to go.

He sets the map aside just in time to turn a corner, which he takes too fast. He cuts off another car, but he's not even sorry. His partner's _life_ is in danger. He considers putting his police lights on, but if there's one thing he doesn't want, it's to alert Skinner that he's coming and give him extra time to get away. Or hide. Or… he can't even complete that thought. No, it's bad enough that Skinner's a cop and knows all the protocols, knows how they all operate, how each of them thinks and reacts. The _one_ thing Skinner seems to have underestimated is how hell-bent Holder would be on making sure that Linden is safe.

His foot unconsciously pushes down harder on the accelerator, and he urges the car to go as fast as he dares in the blackness that goes along with the lack of streetlights so far outside the city. Holder tries not to think, but it's hard. There's so much uncertainty, so much many ways this could go wrong. He tries to take deep breaths, to calm himself down. He needs to stay focused. There's two people in danger right now, two people who need him not to lose his shit, and at least one of them is actually with Skinner himself. Who knows what that psychopath's going to do…

_I'm coming, Linden,_ he thinks to himself, unsure of whether or not he'd said the words aloud.

…

When his phone finally rings, he's still driving, his knuckles clenching the steering wheel so hard they're aching, but it's not Linden on the phone. It's fucking Reddick. He tries not to sound pissed off that he's the one calling. None of this is his fault, and after everything that's happened between them in the past few days, the man is still doing him a huge favor by looking for Adrian. Reddick tells Holder that he's at the kid's house, that he found something in his backpack. After a short conversation that Holder barely hears, with his focus remaining on the dark road ahead of him, he hears Reddick say he's going to check something and get back to him. Holder is once again alone in the silence of his car. Alone with his thoughts.

He keeps driving, thinking only of finding this damn lake house, and trying _not_ to imagine what he'll find when he gets there. He prays that Skinner won't have done anything stupid, that Linden will be okay, and that Adrian is somewhere safe, somewhere _not_ with Skinner. Skinner and Linden aren't too far ahead of him… less than thirty minutes. Jen hadn't said anything about a kid being with them, but who the hell knew. Not like he hasn't seen his fair share of people stuffed in trunks.

A wave of nausea sweeps over him at the thought, and for a second his vision blurs slightly. He's thinking of Bullet, and the guilt and sorrow over what had happened to her threatens to overcome him once again.

In any other situation, he may have pulled over and given himself a moment to recover from the feelings that had just overtaken him. But there's no way in hell he's going to take a moment while Linden's out there somewhere, with a psychopath. If he doesn't get to her in time, he's _never _going to forgive himself. If he misses saving her by the amount of time it would take him to pull himself together and stop lamenting a girl who's already dead, well, he won't be able to go on.

He stays focused on taking deep breaths. He can't afford to lose his shit now. Up ahead he can see the reflection of a sign, but it's too far away to see what it says. His fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel as he mumbles, "Come on, come on, come on…" He can only hope that this sign is the one he's looking for. It feels like five years before the sign is close enough to read.

Finally, mercifully, when Holder slows down to read the sign, it's the one he's been hoping it was. Lake Sawyer. He consults his map again and turns toward the lake, proceeding slowly into the foggy blackness. The narrow dirt road feels like it will never end, and the house numbers are few and far between. He drives for what feels like fifteen minutes down the winding road, wondering if he's gone too far, if he's taken the wrong road, if he's ever going to find the lake house or any sign of Linden and Skinner. Just when he thinks he's completely lost, he sees a post with the house number he's looking for.

Knowing that he may need the element of surprise, he decides that it's better to go the rest of the way on foot. He turns off the car there and gets out, closing the door quietly and walking into the darkness. He walks slowly, straining to see in the dark, and cocks his gun so that he's ready as he continues forward.

The cabin is set not too far from the road, and he peers inside cautiously. He tries the doorknob, which is locked, then finally he just kicks in the door. Not hearing or seeing anything obvious, he calls Adrian's name and looks around quickly, his flashlight now on. _Nothing._ No signs of life, but no signs of death either. No clues. _Nothing_. Maybe this hunch was all for nothing. What _now_?

_Dammit!_ he things angrily. He kicks a chair in frustration and it skids into other furniture, rattling dishes. He looks around frantically, trying to figure out what to do next.

_Where the hell are you, Linden? _he asks the darkness.


	52. For Too Long

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

**Author's Note: I happened to look back at my previous chapter after posting it, and I was shocked by the number of typos I found. My only explanation is that my word processing software rebelled against me, because I'm fairly neurotic about rereading my writing (over and over) before I post it. I apologize profusely, and hopefully now I've corrected all of the mistakes. If you were to read it now, I hope that it would make a lot more sense. And now, back to Linden and Holder.**

Linden's phone is ringing, again. She doesn't have to look at the display to know that it's Holder, and somewhere inside she feels the tiniest bit better, knowing that if he's calling her means that he's no longer with Internal Affairs. There's no way they'd let him call her until he was out of their custody. At least there's one thing that Skinner hadn't succeeded at.

Skinner, however, is far less happy to hear Linden's phone ringing. He doesn't want the outside world to know what's going on, of course. Logically, she knows she should just answer it. After all, she's the one with the gun. But knowing that Linden will stop at nothing to find the boy, Skinner tells her that if she wants to see Adrian again, she'll turn off her phone. So she does. She may have the gun, but she doesn't have the power.

Even though fear would be the logical reaction for most people in her situation, knowing what Skinner is capable of and what he has already done, Linden doesn't feel fear for herself. She _should_ be afraid, she's actually conscious of this, she's just far more worried about Adrian that herself. And now that she knows how dangerous Skinner is, she needs to make sure that he's never allowed to hurt anyone else again.

"We'll be there soon," Skinner tells her softly. She wonders where he's taking her, so far away from everything. Is he actually taking her to Adrian, or if this is just a trap of some kind, another lie? Her eyes continue to bore into the side of Skinner's head as he drives, acting unconcerned. She's unsettled by how calm he is. He's acting like this is a perfectly normal outing for the two of them, and as if she didn't have her gun pointed at him from only a few feet away.

It goes on for what feels like hours, Linden sitting rigidly and staring at Skinner, her gun trained on him. From somewhere outside in the gathering darkness, his words from a few short days before (_has it been that long? Or was it much longer ago?_) float back to her.

They'd been at her house. She can't bear to think any more about the circumstances of them being there, together. Of what they'd done, together…

"_Sometimes I think that people like us, we're just supposed to be alone,"_ he'd told her. Had he just been trying to convince her? Does he really believe it? Or is this a product of whatever sickness he has that makes him think that it's okay to kill anyone who he deems unworthy of living? Granted, whether she likes it or not, there are connections between them. They'd been partners years ago, and more than partners, then he'd been her boss after that. He still is her boss. And then there was last night… Yes, they have plenty of connections, and the thought now makes her sick.

"_That's not true,"_ she'd told him at the time. She's not sure where those words had come from, because it's hard to remember a time in her life when she _didn't _feel alone. But it's not something she's _meant for_, not something she has ever believed she was _supposed to be_. It's just what she is, all she knows. She doesn't know how to _not _be alone, how to be with someone. Not really. She can fake it for a little while, but eventually it all falls apart. Every single time. Like everything good in her life, eventually she burns it all to the ground… because she just doesn't know how to hold onto it.

But "supposed to be alone?" Maybe Skinner is supposed to be alone. She has just always been alone because she's so supremely good at fucking up her own life, even when no one else is helping her do it.

_But, no_, she corrects herself, _not completely alone. There's one relationship I haven't fucked up, somehow. Not yet, anyway. I don't understand how, because God knows I've done enough stupid things_.The one relationship that she somehow hasn't fucked up yet is the one place where she doesn't feel alone – not completely, anyway, not all the time, which for her is a big deal. She's never noticed it til now, probably because the feeling that she isn't alone is so unfamiliar to her that she hadn't even been able to identify that that's what it is.

No, there's one person who's like the lifeline when she's about to drown… though she's mostly too stubborn to grab onto it, to let him help her. Still, she knows he's there, and that's something.

She's probably never seen it before because she doesn't _want _to see it, doesn't want to believe that it's possible. It's safer to be alone, because she already knows that every different kind of relationship, _every single one_, eventually falls apart for her. There's no one who's _always _going to be there. In the end, _everyone_ leaves, no matter what they promise, or how much they're just _supposed to_ be there. She's known plenty of those people, the ones who were supposed to stay, and they always left anyway. It's only a matter of time.

She silences the voice in her head that wants to believe that she's not alone, because she knows that the more she lets herself believe in people, believe that this time will be different, the more it will eventually hurt when they leave. She's been through it enough times to know, after all. If ever there was an example, for God's sake, it's the man – no, the _monster_ – sitting in the car with her. She knows that not everyone turns out to be a serial killer of teenage girls – that's just _her_ majorly fucked up luck at finding one of the few out there – but it's just another reason not to trust people. Because it's just her luck that the person she has let herself get close to, who she thought she knew and could trust, is the only person she's ever met that's more fucked up than herself.

Almost simultaneously, she hears a voice in her head, calling her on what she's doing, the walls she's building. It's the voice of someone she _believes_ she knows prettywell, and while he may have issues, she's pretty sure he's not a serial killer… not, of course, that she'd thought that of Skinner either. No, Holder may be fucked up, but she's pretty sure it's in the same way she is. She finds this oddly comforting. And because she's Sarah Linden, and because she's as fucked up as she is, of course, the fact that it's comforting terrifies her.

But how can she _really _be sure that she knows him? The answer, of course, is that she can't. You can't _ever _really know someone else. She has thought she knew people many times before, and well, look where it got her. Abandoned too many times to count, and now finally, holding a gun on one of them after hearing him confess to killing more than twenty young women – girls – just because he decided it was for the best. If ever there was a reason to never trust anyone again, this seems to her like it.

But Holder's voice is in her head just the same, despite her attempts to block it out, loud and clear. "You never stay. 'Cause if you did, then you'd _want_ it. You'd _need_ it. And then you could get _hurt." _She feels a tug at her heart at the word _hurt_, close to the same spot where he'd poked her with his finger as he'd said it. "And _left_… or _not_ left." And she knows that he's right, and she hates it.

If she wasn't where she is right now, having all these thoughts whir behind her eyes as she stares at the psychopath she's holding a gun on, she would have closed her eyes against all of it. Maybe curled up in a ball and pulled the covers over her head, maybe gone running, maybe thrown herself into the search for Adrian in a more traditional way that let her forget how fucked up her personal life is and bury herself in work. Those are the ways she usually deals with things.

But those aren't options this time, so she pushes all of it as far back in her mind as she can, telling herself that none of it matters, like she always does when it's all just too much. She knows it's not healthy, but it's all she can do.

And then Skinner's talking again, interrupting that wild tangent that her thoughts have taken and asking her, "Why couldn't you walk away?" Of course he wishes that she and Holder had walked away from Angie Gower's body, the one that had led them to realize so many things that they hadn't seen before, that had eventually led her to Skinner.

_Walk away? Really? Does he know me at all? _she wonders. She doesn't do "walk away," not from work, only from people. Quite the opposite. She walks away from people in favor of her job. After all, no one can walk away from her if she's already left on her own. And the dead can't walk away… which may be what draws her to them. They're the only ones who never leave, no matter how fucked up she may be.

She scoffs at him in disbelief, and he sighs as if he's disappointed with her. "Well, I don't expect you to understand," he says patronizingly.

"Understand what?" she asks in a raised whisper, not believing her ears. It's as though he thinks there would be any way to understand what he'd done, if only she thought about it the right way. "That you _murdered _twenty-one girls? No, I don't understand that. How could _anybody_ understand that?"

She pauses to collect her muddled thoughts. As long as she's asking him questions, she may as well add a few more. "How do I even know that you're taking me to Adrian? Or that he's alive?"

"You don't," he replies quickly, clicking his tongue as if, once again, he's disappointed in her. "But I told you he was."

There are now tears stinging her eyes. She's managed to keep her composure during this whole ordeal, but she has reached the breaking point. While she's breathing heavily, trying to keep it together, he remains as calm as he's been all along, which only makes her that much more frantic. It only serves to prove even further what a psychopath he is.

He sighs, then almost whispers, "You used to trust me implicitly, Sarah."

_He has lost his fucking mind_, she thinks in disbelief. It's not as though she doesn't already have evidence of this, of course, but now he's somehow surprised that he's lost her trust! Her head is pounding, and she's not sure how long she can play this game. Because that's what it feels like… some kind of sick game.

"This morning in your kitchen –" he begins.

She shakes her head slightly as she looks away, unable to even look at his as he utters the words, talks about the fact that they'd woken up in her bed that morning, together. "Don't do that," she whispers quickly.

But he continues, undeterred. "I.. I thought it was a beginning for us."

"Don't do that!" she insists, more harshly this time. Of everything that's happened so far, it's finally too much.

"I wanted to change for you," he tells her. "And I thought I could. 'Cause I have been alone…" he stops, shifting uncomfortably, glancing around and out the window before looking back at the road ahead, "for too long." His voice breaks. "For too long," he repeats in a whisper.

She looks down and takes a sharp breath. They _do _have that in common. Almost as though he's reading her thoughts, Skinner adds "And so have you." She shakes her head quickly, refusing to believe that she's like him, but a tear escapes her eye and she quickly leans down to wipe her face on her shoulder, unwilling to release either of her hands from the gun that's still pointed at Skinner. "So have you," he repeats quietly.

"You and I are nothing alike," she whispers back, looking back up at him. He watches her as though he knows better, and they continue their drive in silence for a few minutes. Skinner can't last long without talking, however, and before long he's talking about the first girl he killed, Bridgette Delahanty. He goes on to tell her exactly what happened that day.

"But you're a father…" Linden insists in disbelief. "You have Bethany, you adore her."

"Those girls were junkies, whores, burden to their families," He tells her, as if that excused killing them. "Human garbage…" he went on, "I save from the inevitability of their lives."

"You're a monster," Linden whispers.

"Maybe," Skinner replies quietly as they exit the highway.

…

The drives seems never ending, as does Skinner's need to talk to her. She knows that it's best to keep him talking, despite the toll it's taking on her emotionally.

"I don't kill children," Skinner insists, to Linden's disgust, when she asks again if he'd killed Adrian.

"They were ALL children!" she says back to him, shocked. _All of those girls…_ she thinks, overcome by the fact that he feels totally justified in having killed them.

"There's a difference between 6 and 16," he tells her matter-of-factly.

"They were 12 year old girls!" She's yelling now. "How do you _do _that?"

He looks at her calmly and replies, "I don't need excuses." He's so calm about it, it makes her nauseous. After a brief pause, he continues. "What about you? What's your excuse? Why are you here?"

The question strikes her as ridiculous. _What am I here?_ _To find Adrian, of course!_

"Hmm? Are you here for Adrian, or is it because you need to understand how you could've made love to me just a few hours ago?"

She's shaking her head, her face contorted in pain and disgust, before all the words are even out of his mouth. "Don't do that," she says again.

"It meant something, Sarah," he continues. "Admit it. You loved me, Sarah."

"Because I didn't know you," she whispers.

"No. But a part of you did… part of you did," he insists calmly.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, honestly baffled.

"No, you knew something. You knew _something_. I mean, that's why you ended up in the hospital. But you still loved me."

That's when she can't take it anymore, and begins swinging her arms, trying to punch him as he pushes back against her with his right hand, his left hand remaining on the steering wheel. "Oh, you – you bastard! You son of a bitch! Don't you make this about me!" she yells.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" he says in surprise as he tries to defend himself. He loses control of the car as she continues to swing at him, and they veer into the other lane.

"You're gonna kill us both, Sarah, stop!" he yells, as he attempts to regain control of the car. There are headlights heading right for them and they hear the blare of a horn.

"What are you gonna do?" she yells.

It's all Skinner can do to shout, "Stop! Stop!" Luckily for them, the oncoming car swerves around them, honking angrily, as Skinner stops the car on the left side of the road.

"Hit me? Cut my throat? Is that what happens?" she's still yelling at him, not knowing whether he's heard anything she's said in the past sixty seconds.

"Stop it!" he shouts again.

They're stopped now, and Linden opens the passenger side door. She needs to get out of the car, _now._ No matter that they're in the middle of nowhere, in the dark. It has started raining as they've been driving, but that doesn't matter either. Without closing the car door, she runs a short distance away before leaning over and braces herself on her knees so that she can throw up. She has past her breaking point.

Skinner slowly gets out of the car and walks over to where she's standing hunched over, moaning slightly. As he approaches and offers her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth, she stands up straight. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Just get away from me!" she cries, waving the gun around in his direction, though not aiming it at him. "Get back in the car."

She shifts back and forth, crying, for a short time before falling to the ground. _I can't do this,_ she thinks. _It's too much_. He takes the few steps toward her slowly, closing the gap between them again, and crouches down beside her. Slowly, he puts his hand on her shoulder. She's not pointing the gun at him anymore. In fact, if he'd wanted to get it from her, it would have been easy. She's sitting almost limply, defeated.

He withdraws his hand after a moment and she says quietly, "Where is he?"

He answers in the same flat tone, "Not far," and gets back up and goes back to the car. Linden stares after him. She wipes her face with the handkerchief he'd given her, slowly, unsure whether she can go on.

But then, unexpectedly, she hears that voice in her head again. _Holder's voice_. He tells her to get her ass off the ground and get back to work, that he knows she doesn't want to give up now, even if she's forgotten.

She'd been thinking the opposite actually, that there was no point. Giving up had seemed like an option. After all, she's sitting in the dark, in the rain, with no idea where she is, totally defeated by what has just happened. It's all just too much. She's questioning everything she knows about herself, wondering, _What if I __**am **__like Skinner_?

Then suddenly, it's like hearing his voice gives her hope again, reminds her of what she knows – that she _isn't_ like Skinner. She's fucked up, no doubt, but she isn't like him. And she isn't alone, not really.

So with just a spark of hope, she finally pulls herself off the ground, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and walks toward the car. She needs to find the strength to finish this.

…

They're still driving. It's beginning to feel like the drive will never end. Linden doesn't know what will happen when they reach their destination, and she's just barely hanging on.

"Are there more girls in the lake?" she asks him. She's no longer pointing the gun at him. Since she returned to the car she's been riding facing forward, mostly looking out the side window. She just can't look at him any longer. The will to fight seems to have drained out of her for the time being.

"And other places," he replies simply. "No one will ever find them."

This revelation is finally just too much. She's near tears as she says, "It's the loneliest thing in the world, waiting to be found." She should know, she feels like she's been doing that all her life. Waiting for someone to find her, to see her… _really _see her. But no one ever does. She has been hiding in plain sight.

Then suddenly, Holder's voice is in her head again… something he'd said to her on the day that Jack had been missing._ "Sometimes I think you just run away just so someone'll come looking for you._"

At the time he'd said it, she'd told him she had no idea what he was talking about. Except that she had, at least sort of. She'd just hated that he could see it so clearly, that he'd called her on it. They'd barely known each other then… except that he somehow knew her anyway, despite her best efforts. At the time, it had terrified her. Now… it felt different. Still terrifying, but… different somehow.

…

Linden and Skinner are standing in the dark, among the trees. First, Skinner had said that Adrian was in the trunk. Now he says that he had lied. "If there's one thing I regret, it's killing that boy."

"NO," Linden says, as if she can will it not to be true. Before either of them knows what's happening, there's a gun shot, and Skinner falls to the ground.


	53. Falling

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 3, episode 10

Holder's standing just outside the cabin, staring into the darkness and trying to figure out which way to go, where to look. He needs a clue, something to help him choose one direction over another. It figures that he has to do this in the dark, when it's ten times harder to search for anyone. But he has to find Linden. There's no waiting til morning.

The sound of his phone makes his heart almost leap out of his chest. He quickly realizes what the sound is and tells himself not to be so jumpy… but that's kind of impossible in this situation. It's still not Linden on the phone. It's Reddick again, but this time he has good news. He found Adrian in the cemetery where his mom is buried. Poor kid has had a rough day… a rough life. Holder is relieved that Adrian is safe. Even though he hadn't been his primary concern, it's one less thing to worry about. And Linden will be so relieved, as long as... _No_, he tells himself, _don't think that way._

Reddick has just hung up on the other end and Holder's still standing with the phone to his ear. "Come on, Linden, where are you?" he mutters under his breath. That's when he hears the gunshot. He looks up, startled, swears under his breath and before he even knows what he's doing, he's running in the direction that he thinks the noise came from. That shot could mean a lot of different things, and a lot of them are bad. He has to find out exactly what just happened. Chances are that Linden's nearby, and…

_No, don't panic until you know what you're dealing with, Holder_, he tells himself.

…

The sound of the gunshot is still ringing in Linden's ears. She's staring straight ahead of her at Skinner, who has fallen to his knees as a result of the bullet hole in his abdomen. She doesn't remember pulling the trigger, but she clearly did. There's no one else here to have done it. All she knows is that he said that he killed Adrian.

Her vision has tunneled in around Skinner, and the blackness of the night around her is only slowly fading back in. As the ringing in her ears recedes, she could swear she can hear another sound, growing louder by the second. It sounds like… a voice? Is someone else there? Oh God, that's not what she needs right now, a witness to what she has done. At first she can't make out the words or the voice, but then suddenly she realizes – it's Holder, and he's calling her name. He found her, like he always does.

In one way she's relieved to see him. In another way, however, she feels dread. He shouldn't have to witness this, be a part of this ugliness. She just _shot Skinner_, after all. There are going to be serious repercussions for that.

No, on second thought, she wishes that he hadn't found her. It was selfish of her to wish for him to be here in the first place. She doesn't deserve a partner – a _friend –_ who's that good to her. He has enough of his own shit to deal with, he doesn't need any more of hers, especially not this. And now he's here, and it's too late for him _not _to be here, to be able to say that he had nothing to do with it. She mentally kicks herself. It's one thing to drag yourself down, but quite another to take someone – _your only_ _friend , _no less_ – _down with you.

None of these thoughts make it past her brain, however, and certainly not to her mouth. She doesn't even turn to look at him, though she knows he's standing close by. She's still pointing the gun at Skinner, unable to look away from him. In a way, she wishes that Holder would take a few steps closer to her and take her gun away. Though she can't bring herself to let go of it voluntarily, she wants nothing more than to not be holding it. She doesn't know what other horrible things she's going to do. She's already shot Skinner once, though she still can't make her mind understand that it was her who did it. At the moment, she's frightened of herself, as though she were a separate person.

Then suddenly Holder's words, not just the sound of his voice, penetrate her brain. "You okay, Linden?" he's asking her. She glances at him quickly, but doesn't respond. Her mind can't work hard enough to help her form words just then, but she hopes that somehow Holder will understand what she needs to tell him. She knows that this is an insane thing to wish for, especially in almost complete darkness where he can barely see her.

"You okay?" he asks again. She just glances up at him again. _I'm not injured, but no, I'm not okay_, she thinks, hoping that he can hear her somehow. At this point, it doesn't seem like such a stretch to think that he might understand without her saying anything. Their connection has gotten to be very strong.

_I wish… _she thinks again as he fails to come any closer to her, _I wish he would come over here and take this gun away from me. He's probably scared to come any closer, and I guess I can't blame him. I'm showing that I'm a complete psychopath right now. I guess I __**am**__ like Skinner. I'm just as much of a monster as he is. _The thought unnerves her, and she shudders inside, but the turmoil doesn't show on her face.

Though she wants to, still, she just can't bring herself to put the gun down. Then suddenly Holder's voice is in her head again. No, it's not just in her head. He's actually talking to her. What is he saying? She tries to focus harder on his words, all the while watching Skinner as he groans in agony on the ground. Things have gone into slow motion again, like they had at Skinner's house, and she has to wait for them to return to normal speed. She repeats Holder's words in her head until she begins to comprehend them.

"We got him. Adrian – he's alive. Reddick found him. He's with him right now."

Holder's words work their way through the layers of her mind, and she is conscious that she feels a flood of relief greater than anything else she could have hoped to feel. _Adrian's safe. He's alive. He's not here, with Skinner, and that bastard will never hurt him again. _

_I did it. He's safe._

She's still pointing the gun at Skinner, she realizes, and she hears Holder's voice again. "Adrian's alive. He's fine. Just put the gun down."

_If only he knew how much I want to put the gun down, she thinks. I want nothing more… but I can't._

Not on her own, not with Skinner looking at her like that. She feels hypnotized by his eyes, and she can't stop staring at them. _He wants me to shoot him_, she realizes._ But that's __**insane**_**.** She knows that she absolutely shouldn't do it, shouldn't give it to what he wants. After all, he's psychotic. He killed all those girls – Bullet included – and felt that it was justified. _I can't give him what he wants. What would that make __**me**__?_

"Linden," Holder says, trying to tear her attention away from Skinner. He just needs her to look at him. "Linden, look at me. He wants you to do this. Put the gun down." Holder's words seem very, very far away, farther every second. She wishes fleetingly, again, that Holder would step forward enough to reach her. She wonders if maybe he would be able to break the spell that she can't shake herself out of, bring her back to reality. It wouldn't be the first time.

Despite all of her attempts to talk herself down, her gun remains pointed at Skinner. Somehow she feels like the things that Skinner has done are her fault. After all, she should've seen it… should've known _something,_ and she should've stopped it. So many of those girls could have been saved if she'd figured it out earlier. This wasn't just a case. The perp was _Skinner_. She was close enough to him – closer than anyone else – and she should have known.

If she lets him go now, who knows what'll happen? What if he somehow gets out? Disappears into society and does this again? No, she has a responsibility, and she finally knows what she has to do. She has a responsibility to ensure that he's never going to hurt Adrian, or a teenage girl, or anyone else, ever again.

"Put the gun down, Linden." Holder's voice is more insistent now, harder. She lets his words sink into her brain, considers them for a minute. _Then again… maybe Holder's right._ His voice is strangely soothing, despite its hard edge. She relaxes her arms and reconsiders her next move. The gun is still in her hands, but pointed at the ground in front of her. _Maybe I don't have to do this._

She's still staring at Skinner, who's holding her gaze like he has a tractor beam coming from his eyes. "Look at me, Sarah." He's gasping for breath slightly, and it's hard to watch. "Look at me," he whispers. "It's gotta be you. You loved me."

Her face contorts in pain. Her head is swimming. _Then again…_

"Linden," Holder interjects quickly, knowing that he's about to lose her to Skinner's spell again, that she's dangerously close to doing something she'll regret.

She hears Holder, but his words aren't sinking in anymore, not really. And Skinner is insistent, pleading, staring at her pathetically. "You _love_ me," Skinner pleads. Does she? She wonders – _doubts –_ if she even knows what love feels like. Does it even matter? It doesn't feel like _any _of it matters.

"It's over," Holder's telling her. Except that he's lost her. He can see that she's not hearing him anymore. He tries desperately to think of what to say, what to do, to get through to her.

Skinner is right in front of her, and he's all she can see or hear. "Look at me," he says, and his eyes are pleading along with his words.

_Holder's right, Skinner wants me to shoot him._ _Just more proof of how sick he is_, she thinks, wondering how someone's mind could even work the way Skinner's does.

Then suddenly a realization hits her hard. _Holder won't understand_. As the reality of the thought hits her, she immediately feels like she's falling into nothingness. She knows that this is it. _**This**_ is where she fucks up so badly that her only friend is going to leave her behind as well, just like everyone else has, beginning with her mother and all the way up to the present day. This is where she proves that it doesn't matter what she does, how hard she tries, because everyone leaves eventually. She knows that there's no way Holder will stand behind her after this, because she knows that what she's about to do is unforgiveable. The pain over that thought alone threatens to tear her insides in two.

_I do it to myself_, she thinks. _How did I get so good at fucking up my life so completely?_

And yet, even though she knows exactly what she's doing and what the consequences will be, she's going to do it anyway. Is it for Skinner, or is it for all the girls he killed? Or is it for herself? She can't let Skinner get away with what he's done. And she knows that it's not her job to dole out vigilante justice – quite the opposite, actually – but there's no turning back now. She has to see this through, for every one of Skinner's victims. For Bullet… and by extension, _for Holder. _Even though it's going to make him hate her. She wants to cry, to scream, but none of it would do any good. None of it matters.

As if on autopilot her arms go back up, the gun aiming at Skinner once again. Holder sees it happen in slow motion, and wants to do something to stop her, but before he can even utter another word, she squeezes the trigger and shoots Skinner again, this time straight through the heart.

"NO!" Holder screams. He's in a panic. _What has she done? What has she fucking done? _He can barely breathe. Looking at her in disbelief as Skinner's body falls to the ground with a thud, he can't read the look on her face. She stand completely still and continues to stare down at Skinner. His mind can't process much of anything. The shot is still echoing through his head, louder and more intense than any gunshot he's ever heard before. He can't believe that Linden just did that. The only sound around them now is the insects chirping, and the silence is just as deafening as the gunshot had been only seconds before.

She looks up, out into the distance, her expression unreadable. Holder walks a few steps in the other direction from her, laces his fingers behind his head. The only word that can move from his brain to his mouth is the one he repeats, over and over. "No. No… no… no."

In his mind, he's slightly more coherent. He's aware that they're going to have to do something, and fast. Make some sort of plan. No matter that he has just watched her shoot Skinner, there's no way he's turning her in. Quite the opposite. She's his partner, more than his partner, she's his _best friend_, and there's no way he's letting her go down for this, not alone.

She's fucked up, but _she's _not the murderer. No, she shouldn't have killed Skinner. He wishes to God that he could have stopped her, that he'd done something more to stop her. Should he have taken the gun away from her? He doesn't think she would have shot him if he'd tried… but then again, who really knew? He wouldn't have thought she'd have shot Skinner, either.

He wishes that he'd tried to take the gun from her, and curses himself silently for not doing enough. He hadn't saved her… not from Skinner, and not from herself.

_No, _he thinks, _she's not going down for this._ Not if he can help it. He only hopes that he can help it. Help _her._

He's always felt protective of her, and that urge is stronger now than ever before, which strikes him as pretty fucked up. She _did _just kill someone. Not someone. _A cop. Their boss._ Yes, Skinner had been a psychopath… but they were _the police_. They didn't get to kill the bad guys, they were supposed to _arrest _them. His head is pounding and he needs a cigarette, but he doesn't want to stop to find one. No, they have more immediate things to worry about.

He imagines that she expects him to leave. He tries not to be offended by it, knows that it's just how her mind works. She's always waiting for people to leave her, because so many of them have. All of them, really. He's the only one that's still there. He doesn't think that she's said in so many words that that's what she thinks, but he just _knows_. And as time has gone on, it has made him more and more determined to _stay_. To not be just another person who leaves. He was never so great at being the dependable guy in his past, but there's something about their friendship, something about being needed... he thinks he needs it almost as much as she does.

Still, he knows that they've just crossed over to a _very_ fucked up place together, one that he doesn't know how to navigate. If he can just stop and fucking _think_. He _has _to calm down.

Linden's still staring into the darkness. He watches her back from a few feet away as he moves restlessly back and forth, trying to quiet his racing thoughts enough to think about what they need to do now, this second. It's obvious to him that he's going to have to be the one to come up with the plan. He'll be lucky if he can just get her to go along with his plan, whatever it is. It's not entirely clear how out of it she is right now, how much she's lost touch with the world around her. The fact that she's standing there, staring straight ahead and not moving is his first clue.

She's staring into the trees. _The trees_, she thinks, focusing on a cluster of them somewhere in front of her. _That picture of the trees. That Adrian drew. _She sees random flashes of pictures from the Seward case file, from the initial investigation with Skinner, flash before her eyes almost all at once, mixed together with the new investigation with Holder. She sees the picture of the trees again, blazing on her hotel refrigerator as if bathed in spotlights, remembered the terror of that night she found it there. _The trees_. "The trees," she whispers breathlessly. Holder looks at her, waiting to see if she would say more. She doesn't.

Then she's at Holder's apartment, staring out into the darkness in the street outside, and feeling so afraid of whatever was out there. A few seconds later, she's standing in the forest, Skinner slumped over in front of her. Then without warning she's in Holder's apartment, drinking a glass of water, except that it's water from the lake where he put all those girls after he killed them. Next, she's standing at the edge of that lake, looking at the floating blobs of red that she can't help but think would look so pretty, had they been flowers or something other than dead girls. She's not sure which one of these scenes is real.

There's a buzzing sound in her ears, and then she's sitting in the car with Holder. She relaxes slightly, just for a second, only to watch in disbelief and fear as his face morphs into Skinner. She doesn't understand what's happening before her eyes, and all she knows is that she's afraid. Finally she can't take it anymore, and after wanting to do so for what feels like days, she shuts her eyes against all of it and sinks to the ground on her hands and knees, letting her forehead rest against the dirt and leaves. It feels cool and relaxing. She shouldn't like it… but she does.

She's losing her mind, she's sure of it now. What little of it that had been left. She's finally going crazy. She's going to end up back in that hospital again, and this time no one's going to get her out. No one's going to be there at all, just her all alone. They're going to pump her full of meds until she can't think straight, then they're going to come and take her from the hospital to jail. After all, she's done horrible things, and she deserves it. She deserves the darkness that's pummeling her from every side. It's seeping inside of her. Soon she'll be gone.

The racing thoughts are just too much, and Linden feels herself falling through the abyss in her mind. She doesn't care. None of it matters. It's over. All of it. The nightmare of Skinner, and the few shreds of good that had been left in her life. It's all over.

_Somehow I deserved this_, she thinks again. She knows it. She doesn't know what she did to deserve this life, but that's just how it has always been. She starts to cry as she feels the darkness swallow her, and then... nothing.


	54. Here For You

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Possible Spoilers (though set in between): **Season 3, episode 10 &amp; Season 4, episode 1

Holder's pacing nearby, willing the last five minutes not to have happened. It's not working; it's still real, all of it. He walks about ten feet from where Linden had been standing and staring out into the trees. When he stops and turns around to face her, he finds that in the seconds that he had his back to her, she collapsed in the dirt. He pauses where he's standing, closes his eyes and sighs heavily, shaking his head. _Oh, Linden…_

His emotions are jumbled up together and he's feeling at least four different things at once, which makes it hard to think straight. He's shocked by her actions, he's relieved that she's okay, of course, and he's furious with her for putting them in this situation, and yet… at the same time, no matter how much he wants to hate her right now, it hurts to see her like this. She's always been broken – now maybe irreparably so – but it has never showed so obviously before. And though it seems to keep her from forming healthy relationships with anyone else, her baggage hasn't been an issue between the two of them, because he's pretty fucked up himself. On the contrary, it's part of what bonds them together.

Thinking quickly, he sprints back to his car, still at the end of the driveway where he left it, and searches his trunk. The old blanket he pulls out isn't exactly the cleanest thing in the world, but it'll do. He's not even sure where it came from, but today he's glad he had it. He closes the trunk quietly and jogs back to where Linden is still face down on the ground. As he gets closer he can hear her sobs, though they're faint, as if her insides are clenched so tightly that it somehow holds in most of the noise. He wants to be furious with her for what she has done, but all he can do is sigh once again at the sight of her.

He stops beside her, momentarily considering how he's going to do this. He has a feeling she's not even going to be able to walk on her own at the moment, which means he's probably going to have to pick her up. He knows that he _can_ lift her – she's tiny compared to him – but up to now there's been absolutely minimal physical contact between the two of them, even in times when one of them was breaking down. He's just not sure how to go about it. All he knows is that he needs to get her off the ground. _Here goes nothing_, he thinks as he crouches down beside her.

Wrapping the blanket gently around her shoulders, he feels her shaking violently. He feels what's left of his anger at her dissipating. _It just can't ever be easy for her. Shit can't never go right. No one should have to end up like this. Yes, what she did was fucked up. She made the worst possible choice. But in her position… there but for the grace of God, and all that. I gotta believe that she thought she was doing it for those girls, or for Adrian. She's got a temper, sure, but Linden don't just shoot someone for the hell of it._

In some sort of fucked up way, he understands what she has done.

Later he'll be angry, he's pretty sure, but right now he can only focus on right now. They need to leave, so the first thing he has to do is get her off the ground. She hadn't responded at all when he'd wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, so he pulls it around her a little tighter and rubs her back gently between her shoulder blades. He can't even tell if she knows that he's there. "Linden," he says in a raised whisper. There's no reply, so he tries again, this time leaning down closer to her ear. "Linden, it's me. We can't stay here. You gotta get up."

There's still no sign that she hears him at all, so he resigns himself to the fact that he's going to have to do this the hard way. He stands up and moves around in front of her, then crouches down to her level again. Again he leans down near her ear and says, "Linden. Hey, we're getting up now, okay? I'm gonna help you up." He doesn't expect a response, but he figures that if she can hear him at all, she might like a heads up about what's about to happen. If she can't hear him, well then, no big deal.

Very slowly and carefully, he gets his hands under her arms to lift her upper body, securing the ends of the blanket in his fingers at the same time as best he can. She's still sobbing and shaking, though he thinks that it may have lessened a little.

As gently as possible considering the awkwardness of what he's doing, he pulls her up off the ground. Her arms hang down like a ragdoll. She's light, but it's still not an easy way to lift an adult. She doesn't struggle against him as he had been afraid that she might. Instead, she's like dead weight, making no attempt to lift herself whatsoever. He continues to pull himself up slowly, pulling her up with him, getting his arms around the middle of her the best he can so she doesn't fall back down.

Now he's standing up, clutching her awkwardly and realizing that he's going to have to carry her to the car. He slides his right arm behind her knees and lifts her off the ground, his left arm supporting her back. For all of her fierceness, she weighs practically nothing. She's still shaking as he adjusts her weight to get a better grip on her, and her head falls against his chest. He has to remind himself to look up and start walking, that this is not the time to try to comfort her, to try to put the pieces back together, no matter how strong the temptation. They can't stay here. They'll talk later.

If they can find the words, that is.

She doesn't respond to being carried as he walks back to the car, doesn't say a word, doesn't even open her eyes. She's shaking less now, and not crying as hard, but her eyes are shut tight and he's still not sure if she's conscious of what's going on. He can't tell whether she knows that he's there and that he has her. In all the times he's seen her break down, he's never seen her this bad. Not even close. He tries not to dwell on it, even though he wants to comfort her somehow. _Not now_, he tells himself. _You're here. Right now that will have to be enough. _

They reach the car and Holder leans down awkwardly to open the passenger side door with the hand that's under her knees, pushing it the rest of the way open with his hip. He leans in slowly to put her down on the seat, not letting her feet hit the floorboards until he has carefully removed both of her shoes, which are covered in mud. He sets them on the ground just outside the car door, then lets her feet rest on the mostly clean floor. He stands up and quickly opens the back passenger door, taking out a stray plastic shopping bag, into which he puts her muddy shoes. He knows that his car won't end up "clean," or evidence free, per se, but no sense making things obvious. He closes the back door and puts the bag in the trunk before going back to Linden.

Kneeling beside her, he looks for signs that she's returning to consciousness. "Linden," he says softly, feeling like his regular speaking voice is too loud for this time and place. She doesn't react. He looks down and notices that her hands, which she has pulled up tightly against herself, are balled into fists. Her eyes are still squeezed shut and her posture is extremely defensive. She's wound up tight in every way. Still, he decides it can't hurt to try.

"Linden, if you can hear me, Imma be back in a few minutes. Gonna take care of things, ya know what I mean? Then we gonna get the hell outta here. Alright?" She doesn't move, doesn't show any sign that she'd heard him. He sighs and shakes his head, patting her shoulder gently before making sure she's fully inside the car and closing the door. Though he's not happy about it, he turns back towards the scene that Linden had left. Skinner's body, his car. It isn't how he wanted it to go down, but it's up to him now.

He wouldn't do it for anyone else, but for Linden... there's no question.

…

Ever so slowly, she feels herself relaxing. Her fists unclench little by little. Her jaw loosens. She realizes that every part of her body had contracted, and as she relaxes she feels sore all over from holding everything in so tightly. She hasn't managed to open her eyes yet, but she notices that she's no longer pressed against the cold ground. The smell in the air is familiar – cigarettes and… what? Fast food? Sweat? She knows this smell, this place. There's no noise around her – why? She decides to let her eyes open, at least enough to find out.

_I'm in a patrol car, probably the one Holder followed me here in – of course. That would explain the familiar scent. But… how?_ Next, she notices that there's a blanket draped around her shoulders and over her lap, and that her shoes are missing. She shakes her head and for a split second, she almost smiles, realizing what it all means. Holder's been looking out for her again, taking care of her.

But what…?

Then it comes back to her, slamming into her like a freight train – everything that had happened that day. Her lungs feel like they're contracting involuntarily, and she's suddenly gasping for air.

_Skinner… He… I… But… Did I…? I did!_

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh shit. Fuck fuck fuck fuck… _

Her heart's beating so fast and so hard, she thinks she may be having a panic attack. Her eyes sweep around outside the car, looking to see if she's alone there. She's in Holder's car, so he's probably there somewhere.

_He was there when… yes, he was there._ She remembers seeing him beside her, when she…

_Oh God oh God oh God… I can't think about it! Make it stop… _She sees the scene replay in her mind in slow motion and is powerless to turn it off. Though she's watching her own actions, she feels like she's watching someone else. Her reactions to what she sees herself do look more like what she remembers of Holder's reactions – shock, mostly. Disgust? Horror? As she hears the gunshot inside her head again, she shudders, her entire body tensing and her arms flying up in front of her face to protect herself against an unseen enemy, even though she's alone in the car.

She's crying again now, sobbing so hard that her stomach's hurting and almost no sound is escaping from her at all. She's brought her shoeless feet up on the seat in front of her and she's hugging her legs to her, her forehead against her knees as she tries to block out the world.

_What have I done? _Her eyes squeeze shut once again.

_You know what you've done. You killed him. You had to. You had no choice. You couldn't let him live. _The voices in her head just never seem to take a break.

_But I… he… but that makes me… _

_Yes, I guess it does. _It's unsettling that the two voices are agreeing. That never happens.

_I'm a monster, just like Skinner, _she tells herself. She has that falling feeling in the pit of her stomach again, and she wonders if she was going to throw up. _Please don't let me throw up in Holder's car. That's all he needs._

_Holder. _

She remembers knowing for absolute certain that he wouldn't be able to forgive her for this. And yet, here she is in his car. She can't quite figure out what to make of what she's awoken to. After all, where the hell is Holder now?

_It doesn't matter,_ she thinks. _I should just walk away, get away from here. He doesn't need me bringing him down._

Her sobs fade as her confusion takes over as the dominant emotion, and she lifts her head to look around again. She can't see more than five feet from the car, if that far, because she's in the middle of the woods and there are no lights to be seen except a sliver of moonlight. No matter how she strains her eyes, there's nothing but blackness around her as far as she can see, and it's eerie. If she hadn't known for absolute certain that Skinner was dead, she would have found sitting her in the car in the pitch dark by herself, in the middle of nowhere, terrifying. As it is, she isn't especially fond of it.

She doesn't see Holder approach the car because she's staring out the window into the darkness on the passenger side when he comes up on the driver's side. As he opens the driver's side door, she almost jumps out of her seat in surprise. He gets in and closes the door as quietly as he can, apologizing for startling her. She notices that he's looking at her a little funny, and she quickly gets uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. She frowns at him, and asks, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He blinks in surprise. He hadn't realized that he was staring at her. Really, he'd just been trying to assess her mental state. She _looks _like she's doing better than she had been when he'd left her in the car – not that it was hard to look better than she'd been before. At least now she's forming sentences. He shakes his head slightly. "Just… tryin' to figure out if you're okay," he says quietly, with concern. "You kinda checked out on me for a bit back there."

Then she understands what the look was that she'd seen on his face: concern. It figures that she wouldn't recognize that look when she sees it. She's still not used to seeing it. Not from anyone besides him.

She glances down, shaking slightly, biting her lip and nodding quickly. Holder knows that nod. It's the one that says, "I'm going to nod yes because if I speak a single word you'll hear how not okay I am." He watches her for a few seconds as she stares at her lap, breathing heavily and trying to compose herself. He starts the car and uses the end of the driveway to turn around the best he can in the pitch darkness, getting them back on the narrow road, away from everything that has happened to them that night.

"I took care of it, Linden. It's done," he says, glancing at her quickly before looking back at the road. He doesn't hear a response, and when his eyes dart back to her a few seconds later her eyes are squeezed shut again and her breath is ragged. "Hey," he says, a little more loudly than normal, but still gently. He's trying to be heard over what is surely a lot of noise in her head. It takes a minute, but she opens her eyes and looks at him weakly. She looks defeated. Scared.

He holds the steering wheel with his left hand and offers her his right, palm up. She looks at it for a minute as if she's wondering what it is, or why he's holding it out to her, then very slowly, she takes it in both of hers. She stares at their hands intently, as if there are answers written there that she'll find if only she looks hard enough. He can feel the tension coursing through her, and within seconds he remembers how very strong she is for her small size. _Damn,_ t_his is going to hurt,_ he thinks to himself, but doesn't stop her. She's squeezing the hell out of his hand, and he's not even sure she knows it. Her eyes are far away again, this time staring out the front windshield into the blackness. But at least her eyes are open and her breathing is fairly even. This is progress, and he'll take it.

On the Linden Crisis Scale, he feels like he may have managed to downgrade the tsunami to a plain old hurricane, even if only for this moment. But then again, with Linden you just never know, and it can change at any second. He doesn't feel like he has much to give in the way of comfort, especially not in this particular situation – he doesn't feel like he's ever really been good at that shit, and even if he was, what exactly could he _say_ to make this better, anyway? Not a damn thing. But if something as simple as holding his hand can help her when she's so clearly in pain, then all the better.

They ride through the darkness in silence. There are so many things hanging heavily in the air around them, so many things to talk about, that neither of them can bring themselves to say a word. With anyone else, it might have seemed uncomfortable, but despite everything that has happened that day and night, words are unnecessary. The only ones that are _really_ important are the ones that don't need to be spoken between them – that have _never _needed to be spoken between them, though they have been said: _I'm here for you._


	55. Doubt

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Post Season 3, episode 10 through Season 4, episode 1

Somewhere on the way to Linden's house, her grip on his hand slowly relaxes a bit. She hadn't really been hurting him, not badly anyway. He hopes that the lessening pressure is a sign of her stress level also coming down slightly, though he knows her too well to think that she'll be anywhere near relaxed. And really, it would be pretty fucked up if either of them _was _relaxed right now, considering what they'd just done. He shudders inwardly at the thought of it, tries to just focus on right now. They're both okay. That's what matters.

His eyes dart over to her in the dark. The look on her face is as far away as it had been the last time he'd looked at her, a few minutes before. He looks back at the road and squeezes her hands with his gently, hoping to send the message that he's thinking but not saying: _We're in this together, Linden_.

How many times has she seemed to forget that over the time that they've worked together? That they're on the same team. He knows he's said it to her on more than a few occasions, and he knows that when there's the slightest doubt in her mind, she tells herself that she's alone, that she has no one. Most people would probably take it personally, but Holder doesn't. He gets that about her. Over time he has discovered the key to understanding Linden – the first part is to remember that she has _always_ felt alone. The second part is to know the way her mind works, that her logic says that if you push everyone away, they can't leave you, and that's what she fears most from people. She won't admit it, but he sees how much she's been hurt by being left.

It doesn't matter that he's already shown her, more than once, that she isn't alone, and that he isn't leaving her. It's something that she needs repeated to her over and over before she'll ever consider believing it, so that's what he tries to do. He knows that she may never believe it, but he tries anyway. Sometimes in words, but mostly by his actions. That neediness from anyone else might have bothered him, but not from Linden. Maybe it's because she works so hard to deny it to everyone, herself included. But besides that, it's just that connection between them. Most of the time he just feels like he _gets _her, as much as it's possible to "get" someone else, at least.

Glancing at her again, he notices that the look on her face has changed since he squeezed her hand, and she now appears more pained than it had before. One thing about Linden, she either has the stony expression that reveals nothing, or she wears her feelings plainly on her face. There's no in between. When she can't manage that steely, evil look that she gives to so many people to keep them at bay, her face gives it all away. It makes sense. After all, she's a very "all of nothing" person.

He exhales heavily and takes a slow breath. "You okay, Linden?"

Her eyes close for a second and she presses her lips together tightly before she opens them again and looks out the front window, nodding almost imperceptibly. That nod again. The "I'm telling you I'm okay even though I know that _you _know that I'm not okay" nod. _Dammit, but she's stubborn_, he thinks. He doesn't press her on it, though. Suddenly, the pressure on his hand increases again, slightly but noticeably.

"You can trust me. You know that, right?" Her eyes clench shut almost immediately and he catches a glimpse of one tear escape from the far corner of her right eye as she nods quickly. _Does she believe me?_ he wonders. He's pretty sure that she wants to. And again, if she doesn't quite trust him, he knows that it's not personal. As many fucked up things as have happened to him in his life, he just can't fathom how it must feel to be her. After all, you have to be in some serious pain to have that kind of a reaction when someone tries to be _nice_ to you. It's hard to watch.

He can hear her taking deep breaths and knows that she's fighting against panic. Though the events of the night have him pretty freaked out himself, he tries to project calm. They could both use it right about now.

_It will be okay. No one's going to know. _He says it so convincingly in his head, he almost convinces himself.

_Almost._

…

She'd forgotten that she's holding onto his hand. Really, it's more like she's clenching it for dear life. And yet she'd been so lost in her thoughts – which had become more like waking nightmares today – that she's almost surprised when she feels him squeeze her hands, which are wrapped around his on both sides, fingers woven together.

She can't remember the last time anyone had held her hand. Rick, probably, though even with him, she can't remember when they'd last held hands. It was one of those simple gestures that's not necessarily anything romantic, just like it isn't right now – though it can be that, too, of course. She knows that Holder offered her his hand for support, because she needed it, and because it's what they do for each other.

At the moment, though, as she squeezes his hand so hard her own knuckles are almost white, she's conscious of the fact that his hand might just be the only thing tying her to reality, keeping her from losing touch with what's actually happening around her. It's no wonder she's holding on for dear life.

"You okay, Linden?"

It feels as though knives are piercing her heart. She knows that he doesn't really expect her to be okay, not _really_, not after everything she'd been through today. She knows that he's asking more about whether she's still consciously there with him, in the car, and not somewhere far away, lost in thought. The bar for "okay" just now is far lower than usual, and still, she thinks miserably, _still_ she can't meet it. That thought just makes her feel worse, and she arranges her lips in a tight line and nods just enough for him to have an answer, even if it _is _a lie.

She knows that she's lying, and she knows that _he_ doesn't believe her. What she _doesn't_ know is why she bothers to say she's fine when she so clearly isn't. She knows that she isn't fooling anyone. But it has always been scary for her to admit that she needs anything from anyone, and keeping it all bottled up is a habit that she can't seem to break.

"You can trust me. You know that, right?" he asks quietly.

Before she can even think about how to react, she has clenched her eyes shut. _Trust_ is a scary word. One of the scariest, in fact. She wants to nod her head yes again, tries to move her neck muscles even just a little, but can't find it in her. She's too exhausted. Besides, what's the point when she's so clearly _not _okay?

She isn't okay. On the contrary, she's a mess.

_Trust? _That's much too scary. Not that Holder _scares_ her. Not Holder himself, anyway. If anything, he's the only person she knows who's worth trusting. Still, a little part of her brain tells her that it's only a matter of time. She pushes the thought away every time, not wanting to believe it, but the old habit is too hard to break.

_Trust?_ But how? How could she ever manage that?

She doesn't feel the single tear on her cheek until it's halfway down her face, and she curses herself silently. She hates that he can see her like this, hates that _anyone _can see her like this. She forces herself to take deep breaths to keep the panic from rising, tries to clear her mind, but her thoughts are racing too quickly for her to control. Mostly, she sees Skinner's pleading face, and then watches herself shoot him, hearing the bang of the gun ringing in her ears over and over. It's too much. She begs silently for someone to make it stop, but there's only herself in her head.

She glances at Holder quickly. His eyes are on the road ahead, the lights from the dashboard illuminating his face just a little. He looks so… calm. How? How can he be calm at a time like this? How can he _not _be freaking out after what she's done?

Still, she focuses on the darkness, on taking deep breaths and holding onto his hand, and she feels herself relax just a little, ever so slowly. By the time they've almost made it to her house, she's breathing normally. As they approach her driveway, she realizes that she's still holding onto his hand, not as tightly as before. She also notices that she feels safer having someone she can hold onto that way. She doesn't immediately feel the urge to pull her hands from his. All of this, of course, is enough to scare her. She shakes her head slightly at herself, knowing how ridiculous it is to be scared of something that calms her down, especially when that something is the best friend you've ever had.

At exactly that moment she feels him squeeze her hand again, and she looks up in surprise. He isn't looking at her, but he has a knowing look on his face. She turns her head only slightly and raises one eyebrow at him, as she has done many times, knowing that he can see her even though he's looking straight ahead. For a split second, she forgets about the events of the night and a feeling of calm is all around her.

Then what feels like a split second later, Holder stops the car in front of her house and looks at her seriously… and it all comes rushing back. Her breath catches in her throat and the panic returns to her face.

"Linden," Holder says, now looking directly at her. She looks up at him, almost gasping for breath now. "Calm down." His voice is soft, firm but not unkind. "Go take a shower. We gotta get rid of these clothes, and all the blood."

Blood? She looks down at her hands, still loosely clasped around his, and sees it. Her eyes grow wide with alarm. It's on both of them._ Where did it all come from? _She hopes it's not going to leave traces in his car.

As if he's reading her mind, he says, "Imma take care of the car, don't worry. You go get yourself cleaned up and change clothes. I'll meet you back here in a couple hours."

She nods numbly. _How did the blood get on them? What exactly happened after she'd shot Skinner? _She can't quite remember now, and it scares her. She looks down at her hands around his and slowly releases her grip, feeling the circulation slowly return to her fingers. She stares at the blood, turning her hands to see just how much there is.

"Linden," he says again. She tears her eyes away from her hands slowly, looking up at him in confusion. "Go shower. Clean up. I'll be back." She nods again, and turns slowly toward the door. Feeling like she's moving in slow motion, she pulls the handle to open the door and gets out of the car. Closing it behind her, she doesn't look back as she walks up the stairs to her door and lets herself in.

Holder sits and watches as the lights come on behind her front door, then waits another minute just to be sure. Sure of what? He doesn't know. Finally satisfied that he can't do anything else to help her, he turns around and drives as calmly as he can back to his apartment.

…

He'd thought the shower would calm him down, but if anything, it has had the opposite effect. Instead of feeling better, he emerges from the steamy bathroom feeling angrier than he's felt in a very, very long time. _How the hell could she do this? _

No, he hadn't **had **to clean up her mess, no one had forced him… but what else was he going to do? He isn't a heartless jackass. He considers himself a good guy, or he tries his best to be, anyway, though he knows that he's fucked up plenty of times along the way. Mostly, he's pissed that he has ended up in such a fucked up situation and is having to make choices that no one should ever have to make. To have Linden's back or let her go down for murder, _alone_? Okay, she _was _the one who shot Skinner, but there are so many fucking extenuating circumstances… and he just _can't _let her take it all on herself alone. He knows that she would, and as fucked up as it is, that's exactly why he can't let her do it.

But he feels trapped, because he finally has something in his life – his relationship with Caroline – that could be completely destroyed by something like what's happening to him now. And not just because it's fucked up – though that would probably be enough to send most women running the other direction by itself – but it's even worse because she works for the fucking DA's office. So there's no chance in hell he can talk to her about what's going on! He can't tell her… _ever_. If it weren't for her job… _maybe_, though he can't imagine a conversation like that going well. Not with anyone. But she's a lawyer, one who'd be directly involved if anyone found out about Skinner, so telling her… well that would just be like throwing both himself and Linden under the bus.

But what kind of relationship can they have when he can't talk to her, can't be honest?

_If you didn't do anything wrong, you can be honest with her, you know, _the voice in his head tells him. _Once again, you're covering for Linden. She sure does get you into a shitload of trouble. Why do you do this to yourself?_

_Fuck you, _he tells the voice angrily. He can't figure out exactly when it happened, exactly when he became so fiercely protective of Linden. Rationally, he knows that the road he's going down because of her may mean a lot of fucking trouble for himself. So _why_ is he doing it? Why does he fight so hard to be loyal to her? He was cool with his partners at County in the past, knew some cops he'd hang out with when he had time… but it was never like this. He can't think of much he wouldn't do for her – because if he was willing to help her with Skinner, there can't be much that's worse than that, can there?

Whatever it is, whatever the reason for his behavior, for his fucking loyalty without logic, it's making him angry. He _knows_ he has to chill the fuck out though. There's too much at stake.

He gets dressed and finds a trash bag, collecting all the clothes he had been wearing, which are now splattered liberally with his boss' blood. _His boss' blood_. He orders himself not to think about it, but he can't seem to think of much else.

_Don't think of him as Skinner. Remember, he was the fucking Pied Piper. _

He ties the bag and drops it by the door to his apartment, then retrieves the bleach from under the kitchen sink and paper towels from the counter. Slowly, methodically, he retraces his steps around his apartment. Looking for any traces of blood that he can see, and wiping down all the surrounding areas for good measure, as well. Even in places where he can't see blood, if he thinks he may have touched it since he got home, he wipes it down thoroughly. The bloody paper towels are deposited in their own trash bag, tied at the top. He scrubs his hands until they're raw, then pours bleach all over the inside of the sink and wipes down the faucet.

Finally satisfied, he replaces the bleach and the paper towel rolls in the kitchen and puts his jacket on – the only thing, besides his boots, that he was wearing earlier that wasn't thrown away, since it's his only jacket. He checks it, though, and it seems to somehow have remained clean.

The two bags are now like dynamite, and he needs to be rid of them as soon as possible; definitely before the sun comes up. He drives through the dark city streets, circling blocks and doubling back numerous times. He's almost the only car on the road, but he does it anyway, just in case. It's just after four in the morning, and the city is still asleep.

After stopping at two different dumpsters about six miles apart to get rid of the trash bags from his apartment, he makes the trip back out to Linden's house. He hopes he'll find her in better shape than she was in when he left her, because she needs to start coming back to reality if this is gonna work out. That thing where her emotions show clearly on her face… that's gonna get them in some serious fucking trouble if she's not careful. He really hopes that she's ready to face the reality of what she's done. Of what _they've _done. Because he did _not _just help her clean up her mess just so she could get herself caught, get _both of them _caught.

When he pulls up in Linden's driveway, he can see flickering light coming from around the corner of the house, and he wonders if she's burning her clothes. He gets out of his car slowly and sees her peering cautiously around the corner in the shadows. She appears to be more in control now.

_Good, _he thinks, and walks towards her slowly, feeling anger threaten to rise from the pit of his stomach again.

_She didn't make you do it, Holder, _he reminds himself. You did that shit on your own.

…

She thinks that her clothes – the _evidence _– in the metal barrel behind her house are about halfway done burning when she hears a car pull up in her driveway. She curses under her breath. The fire is the only light and the only sound outside, since the sun won't be up for a few more hours, so it's visible even from around the side of the house. Of course, her nearest neighbor is nowhere nearby, so there isn't much danger of being seen. The isolation and lack of other lights or sounds has also meant that she had seen the headlights and heard the engine of the approaching vehicle easily. _There's very little chance that it's anyone besides Holder_, she reminds herself, since it _is _still pretty much the middle of the night… but after what she's just done, paranoia seems very appropriate, healthy even. Slowly, cautiously, she walks toward the noise and peeks through the shadows around the corner of the house, her gun ready, to see who it is.

It's Holder, of course, as she'd told herself it would be. She puts the gun away as they walk slowly through the dark yard towards each other. The security light outside her front door automatically goes on when they meet underneath it, and suddenly they're bathed in what feels like _far _too much light. It's as if there's a helicopter above them with a search light trained on them… or maybe that's just her imagination, because if anyone knew what they'd done, there could have been just that kind of light on them…

He's staring at her, she notices, and he's not smiling. Quite the opposite, actually. His face is blank and unreadable, almost hostile. She's never seen that look on his face before, not directed at her, and a chill runs down her spine. Suddenly, he looks like a stranger. He's looking at _her _like she's a stranger. The feeling unsettles her, but she tries hard not to let it show on her face.

_Maybe I never really knew him, _she tells herself. That feeling begins to creep up on her again, the sensation that she's falling off a cliff into nothingness. Maybe it was too good to be true to think that he was going to stand by her after all of this, after all. She hadn't expected him to in the first place. Maybe she'd been right about that, about him.

_You're both scared, _the rational voice in her head says. _He's just been through the same thing as you, except that he cleaned up after you and __**he didn't have to**__. You know him just fine. It's just a fucked up situation._

But the seeds of doubt have been planted, and Linden's automatic response to doubt is, has _always _been, to shut down. To assume the worst. Now is no different. She feels like she's choking, though she feels herself breathing normally.

"We just gotta keep our stories straight, Linden," Holder says seriously, staring at her. "No one's gonna find him. No one's gotta know what we did." In the time it had taken him to go home and shower, the gravity of the situation they're in, of the shit that they _could_ be in if someone finds out what they did, has really hit him. He can admit it, at least to himself – he's freaking out. After all, he's not a junkie anymore. He has something to _lose_ now. He's a goddamn _cop_, for fuck's sake! Linden is his partner and his best friend, but he'll be damned if he's gonna let her get them caught, that he's gonna go to jail for something that he tried to stop her from doing in the first place.

Yeah, Skinner deserved it. Yeah, Holder _thinks_ he understands why she did it. It doesn't mean he thinks it was right. And yeah, he recognizes that _he_ got himself involved, not just by being there and not calling it in, but also by dealing with Skinner's body and his car. He could have left. Linden _told him _to go. But how could he?

No, they're in it together. They've _always_ been in it together. Of course they are. Of all the people he knows, she'd be the last one he'd leave hanging, ever. It may be something about her insistence that she doesn't need help, not _ever_, when everything he knows about her screams just the opposite. On the contrary, she needs someone more than anyone else he knows, she's just too fucking stubborn to admit it.


	56. More Than Anything

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 1

When the uni leaves, Linden puts her head in her hands at her desk. Holder gets up and closes the door, then stands and leans against the wall just beside the door, staring at her in disbelief. She looks back up at her computer, avoiding his eyes. She knows he's going to be pissed.

"You asked for a photo of _Skinner's car_?" Holder can't keep the anger out of his voice, though he's trying.

"I didn't know it was his car," Linden replies defensively. That had been back before… all of it. Before they'd realized who they were looking for. It seems like a million years ago now.

"Is there anything _else_? Anything else that could fuck us up?" His tone is cold. It's not that he wants to be an asshole, but goddammit it's the details that could bring them down… something like this… If anyone else is paying close enough attention… No, he can't think about it.

"No, but maybe you need to check your _coat_ again," she spits back at him, equally coldly. She's not used to feeling like this with him. Defensive. Isolated. She's been the target of a lot of indifference, anger and hostility over the years, but it stings the most coming from him. This feeling, along with the rejection that always went with it, was the reason she'd always built the walls around herself.

_The ones she doesn't have with him._ She hopes it's not showing on her face.

Holder pushes himself off the wall and walks across the office towards the desks. "We need to keep our shit tight here, alright?" His voice has lost a little bit of its angry tone, and he now just sounds serious.

She looks up at him but doesn't respond as he sits back down in his chair, looks at the file on his desk, then up at her. He's not trying to be nasty to her, though he knows it's probably coming across that way, but she needs to know the reality of what they're dealing with. He's trying to clean up after her… _again. _He's doing it for their own good – both of them.

"Is there anything else? Think," he insists.

"No, there's nothing," she whispers.

He leans in a little towards her, not really wanting to say what he's about to say. Still, he feels like it should be said. "Look. Look, I know how… how personal this is to you," he begins, not knowing exactly how to proceed, knowing that there's a good chance that she's going to react badly. He's not afraid of her, of course, though he definitely prefers not to piss her off when he can avoid it. Really, he wants to remind her that he's there for her. But from the confused look on her face, she has no idea what he's talking about.

"What?" she asks shortly. 

"I mean…" he begins unsurely, then thinks _Oh the hell with it, just spit it out already. _So he continues, "…with you and Skinner… being together…"

Linden's eyes widen and her face fills with panic. "_Shut up!_" she yells, but in a whisper.

_Fuck, _Holder thinks. _That went over about as well as I expected it to. _He decides to change his tactic. "I'm…"

But she doesn't let him finish. "You shut up," she hisses, still whispering. She looks completely disgusted, and suddenly jumps out of her chair. He continues to stare in the same general direction as the space she just left, not even looking up as she walks past him and out of the office, closing the door behind her.

Holder stares at Linden's desk, sighing heavily, and feeling defeated. _What else can I do? _He wonders. _Shit is so far beyond messed up.__** So**__ far._

_You can't help her if she's determined not to let you, _the voice in his head says.

He closes his eyes and sighs again, letting his head hang down. It's true, and he knows it, and that's the frustrating part. He _wants _to help her. Yet he knows that she'll block him out, telling herself that she's better off alone… but he knows that she's not. After all this time, he can't understand why she can't see that. Why she can't accept that even one person wants to be there for her. He understands the reasons behind it, yes… he just can't believe that after everything he's done to prove it, she still doesn't seem to trust him.

He's never taken it personally that she shuts him out, not since he got to know her anyway, and he's not insulted now. But what he _is _is exhausted. He's trying to hold them both together, and Linden's walking around seeming like she's gonna give it all away any second. He knows that she wouldn't do it on purpose, but she's so goddamn transparent right now, who knows what's gonna be the thing that breaks her.

She doesn't want him to – what'd she accuse him of at the hospital? – to "handle" her, to hover. She doesn't want to be treated with kid gloves. What the fuck _does _she want? Does she want him to let her screw both of them over by getting caught? Cause that's not happening, not if he can help it. Does she want him to just let her run away and hide, again? Does she want him not to care about her at all? No, he doubts at least that last one, though it seems like the idea that someone _cares _about her is about as hard for her to believe in as it is for some people to believe in life on Mars, or reincarnation.

He sighs again, opens his eyes and stands up. Suddenly he just has to get out of the station. Without even deciding where he's going, he walks briskly to his car, barely hearing or responding to the greetings from other cops on his way.

It's raining outside, as usual, but it doesn't bother him. On the contrary, it feels very appropriate to his current mood.

_Please_, he tells the sky, _wash it all away._

…

Linden's standing on one of the interior decks on the ferry, staring out the window. She's trying to make her mind blank, to stop the racing thoughts. Having to take this damn ferry is frustrating now that she's working at SPD again. It was all so simple when she'd moved to the island… she'd _made_ it simple, on purpose. No dead people. No cases. No intrusions from the outside world if she didn't want them. She'd told herself that she was happy. She'd _wanted _to be happy that way. She had a home and a job, nothing messy, no complications… even a younger boyfriend who seemed head over heels in love with her. _Her. Sarah Linden, world's most fucked up adult. _It was the life that she'd wanted. The life that she'd _thought _she'd wanted, anyway.

But she'd been lying to herself, she just hadn't seen it then… she hadn't wanted to see it. Then there was that day that Holder had come out to see her, and that was when she'd known. She'd told herself at that time that it was nice to have him visit, and that that was enough. It _had _been nice to see him, to talk to him. He'd cleaned himself up, finally. He'd seemed more confident, less like a rookie fresh off narcotics undercover, which was what he had been when they'd started working together.

Yes, she had actually been glad that he'd come out to see her. She'd even admitted to herself that she missed working with him, spending all that time with him, even if what they'd been doing for all those hours had been bleak and depressing. It had been comforting having a partner, someone who had her back. She had missed that part of it, she realized.

So why had she cut him off along with everything else? She had simply needed distance from _all of it_ after the Rosie Larsen case. She'd needed to step back. She'd lost herself in the case again, which she'd told herself that she wouldn't do again after the Seward case, and it had scared her. At that time, she had needed to start over, the way she had meant to do in Sonoma. Holder had been a casualty of that, through no fault of his own. Luckily, he didn't seem to blame her for cutting him out of her life.

But she realized when he showed up at her house, when he left that file there for his new case – yes, she had known right away that he'd done it on purpose – the case that seemed so much like her old Seward case, that she had been lying to herself for quite a while. This quiet life she'd built for herself? It wasn't her. She'd thought that she wanted it, but it was all a lie.

She needed her life as a cop. She didn't want to, but deep down, that was what she was. She was good at her job. Really, it was the _only _think she was good at. It wasn't "safe" like her life on the island, but it was _her_.

Maybe that was the part that scared her, that she needed it. Throughout her life, she'd only been burned by needing people. She liked to think she didn't need anything or anyone, and she'd almost convinced herself that she didn't. _Almost. _

She leans her forehead against the glass of the window, overlooking the water, and closes her eyes. The surface of the glass is cool against her skin, and a fleeting sense of peace spreads through her. It only lasts a few seconds, however, before reality intrudes again. She wonders how she got here, to such a fucked up place in her life. It's as though every time she asks herself that question, she somehow finds a way to fuck her life up even more spectacularly. She shudders at the thought, unsure of how exactly she can top where she is now in terms of fucking up her life again. The thought is terrifying.

She almost laughs out loud at the absurdity of it all, but stifles the sound in her throat. Breathing in deeply, she tries to exhale slowly and dispel the sudden rising panic that she feels. She can't answer any of her own questions. She wishes that she could push _herself_ away the same way that she can do it to others, wishes that she could leave herself behind and just walk away somewhere, where no one knows her and it doesn't matter who she is or what she has done. Somewhere where she can lose herself in a crowd, or in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't matter which one. She just wants to disappear.

And yet, she has never wanted more urgently in her life to scream at the top of her lungs. For someone to hear her, for someone to see her. To _really _see her. She opens her eyes and removes her forehead from the glass of the window, looking out once again at the water. The sky is overcast, and the water seems to go on forever... or maybe it's just that she's trying not to see the land on the other side. _There must be a metaphor for my life in that_, she think, shaking her head slowly. She takes another deep breath and clears her mind, pushing all of it aside. _It doesn't matter_, she tells herself. _It doesn't matter._

And it also doesn't matter that she doesn't believe her own words. She'll keep repeating them until she _does_ believe them. Because more than anything, she _wants_ to believe them.

…

Holder uses his key and goes into Caroline's apartment. He'd expected her to be home, but he doesn't hear noise anywhere in the apartment. No one responds when he calls "Hello?" from the door, but there are a few lights on, which is usually a sign that she's home. For a second he panics, wondering if something has happened to her. His police training kicks in, and he walks slowly further into the apartment, suddenly anxious, alert for anything that looks out of place.

He finds her in the bedroom, just standing there staring into space. He feels relief when he sees her there, safe, but the look on her face has him concerned. He's definitely not prepared for what she tells him.

_She's pregnant._

He tries to retain his composure, but he snaps at her a little before managing to calm himself down. On top of everything else, all the things that _he can't talk to her about_… it's all just too much. He manages to get ahold of himself, and realizes that they're _both_ a little freaked out about this development. He wants to do the right thing, just like he always wants to… he tries to, anyway.

_But oh my God, this is something I could fuck up so spectacularly it would put all my other fuck ups to shame_, he thinks as he walks around the corner to pick up the Thai food that they agreed on. He passes the Thai restaurant and keeps on walking for several blocks, before cutting over and winding between buildings. He's not even conscious of where he's going, he just knows he needs to walk, to move, to do something. The feeling that he's quickly losing control of his life, one aspect of it at a time, overwhelms him.

Eventually he winds his way back to the restaurant and orders the food. While they're preparing it, he walks a few more blocks to pass the time, suddenly unable to be still. _I'm going to be a father. _This was _not_ part of the plan. He's managed to fuck himself up enough, and now he'll be responsible for _not _fucking up a kid? The thought is terrifying.

A little more than an hour after he left Caroline's apartment, he returns with the food. She looks at him curiously, but doesn't ask any questions. He figures she probably understands that he needed a little space to process the news, so he doesn't offer an explanation. He tries to act natural as they eat and relax, but it's not easy.

Later, they're sitting with empty plates on the coffee table in front of them, watching something on the Discovery Channel that neither one of them has really been able to focus on. He turns and looks at her, not speaking, just watches her intently for a full minute as if he's looking for something. Finally, she looks away from the TV towards him, getting slightly uncomfortable.

"Stephen, are you okay?" she asks worriedly.

He tries to force the corners of his mouth into a smile, or something that passes for one, but he's not entirely sure he manages it. He nods his head slightly, still looking at her intently. She reaches out to take his hand, assuming that the news of her pregnancy is what has him behaving so strangely. For most guys, that _would_ be enough to throw them off their game, after all.

"I just…" he starts, but doesn't know how to finish the sentence. She can't remember the last time she saw him at a loss for words, and she smiles sympathetically.

"I know. It's a lot to take in," she says soothingly. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out."

He nods his head again, slightly more confidently. "Yeah," he whispers. He _wants _to believe it.

She looks down at her watch, then back up at him. "You and Sarah are meeting up early tomorrow, right?" He can't do anything but nod. He doesn't want to be reminded of Linden just then, of the shit going on in what feels like every part of his life that exists outside of her orderly apartment. And now, inside it as well.

"Yeah, but I'll stay if you want me to," he says quietly, finally finding his voice. She leans into him and he slips his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"You know I love having you around anytime you want to be here," she tells him, snuggling against him. "But I know you have to be out there early. It's okay if you don't stay." She leans back so she can look in his eyes.

He looks at her searchingly, trying to figure out if he should take her words at face value, or if this is one of those things that women say that he's not supposed to believe. She's not usually like that, though. He likes that about her. Maybe because of her job, but she generally means what she says.

He considers his options. As much as he enjoys the cocooned, safe from the shit in the rest of his life, calming feeling he has – or _had_, until today – in her apartment, he doesn't think he can handle it tonight. He's torn though, because she's just told him that she's pregnant. _What's the right thing to do?_

He sees her watching him, and knows that he has to come up with an answer. He decides to take a chance and take her words at face value. Still, he wants to be sure she's not just saying it. "You sure you're good either way? I mean, you just…" Again, the words are failing him, much to his frustration.

Shaking her head, she smiles at him. _He's so cute when he's overwhelmed_, she thinks. "It's no different from any other night when you have an early day in the morning," she reassures him.

Looking slightly nervous, he replies, "Okay… well if you're sure… I think I'm gonna go back to my place and crash for a little bit. You're right, Linden and I are meeting up early, so…" he trails off, unable to think of anything else to add. They both stand up, and she walks with him to the door of her apartment. He stands there unsurely, looking like he wants to say something, but remaining silent, like he wants to run, but he stands and shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

She puts her hands on his chest and stands on her toes to kiss him on the lips, feeling him relax slightly. "Good night," she says as he puts his arms around her. "Call me tomorrow?"

"You know it," he replies with a smile, convincing himself that he can fake normalcy for the five seconds that it'll take him to get out of her apartment.

Outside the apartment, he tries to walk calmly until he's around the corner, out of the line of sight from her door. There, he leans against a wall and has to resist the temptation to sink down the wall to the floor. He remains standing there for a few minutes, suddenly trying to catch his breath. He hadn't even realized he wasn't breathing normally, and wonders nervously when _that _had started.

_It's too much_, he thinks to himself. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to clear his mind a little. _No, keep it together, Holder. You got this. It's all kinds of fucked up, but you got this._

He keeps repeating these words over and over as he makes his way back to his apartment, thinking only of a shower and a few hours' sleep before going out to the island to check on Linden. God knows what he kind of a state he'll find _her _in.

Those words – "You got this" – become a mantra, the one single thing that he can find to hold on to. It seems impossible that there can be so much shit going on and he can even _think _of staying calm, but what are his options? Easy, there aren't any others.

If he keeps his shit together, he keeps himself and Linden out of jail. He can't talk to Caroline about any of it. Not the shit with Skinner, for obvious reasons, and not even how fucking terrified he is about having a baby. That's _not _exactly the kind of thing you say to your girlfriend who just found out she's pregnant. He's not really on great terms with his sister, not that he could tell her anything about the shit he and Linden are in if he was. And realistically, she's probably not gonna be in favor of him being a dad, considering how she feels about him being an uncle.

No, the only one he could safely talk to is Linden, but she's practically off the deep end herself already. If anything, he needs to avoid freaking her out and keep her calm, so he doesn't really wanna talk to her about _any_ of it.

So there's no other choice but to keep himself going. _You got this_, he tells himself over and over as he lays in bed, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. He's watching his life spin completely out of control and it seems absurd to think that he's in control of _any _of it. Still, he repeats the words to himself, again and again.

Because more than anything, he _wants_ to believe them.


	57. Better That Way

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 1

They're sitting on the stairs outside Linden's house, going over what they have so far on the Stansburys. Linden claims that she slept since he last saw her, but from looking at her, Holder's guessing that it's unlikely. If anything, she looks worse than she did before.

Holder, on the other hand, after getting home from Caroline's and tossing and turning for a while, had finally managed to sleep for a few hours. It's as though those few hours worked some miracle on him, and he woke up more refreshed than he has felt in a long time. He can't explain why, but he's feeling good about things for the first time in ages. He's trying not to focus on the terrifying parts of any of the things that are happening in his life, and so far, it's working.

He's already mentioned it to her, and he's still really hoping that Linden will take a shower before they get in the car together again. She definitely needs it, and besides, who knows how long it'll be before she gets another chance, the way this case is going.

"So Kyle killed his family, got rid of the gun, then got another gun and shot himself? That doesn't make sense," Linden muses aloud.

"Unless someone staged the suicide," Holder interjects. They always play devil's advocate for each other.

Linden looks at the file and reads from it. "Glock at the scene had Kyle's prints on the grip and… a partial palm print, unidentified."

"We never found the second weapon in the house," Holder reminds her.

"They've got that beachfront. We should get divers out in the water," Linden says, thinking aloud. She doesn't see Holder flinching just the tiniest bit, involuntarily, when she mentions _divers in the water_. Or maybe it's only in his head that he reacts as he has a flashback to Skinner's car, now in Lake Sawyer thanks to him. He pushes past the thought quickly. After all, it's behind them. He keeps his face calm.

"Already done, mamacita," he tells her proudly.

_Haven't heard him use that one in a long time_, Linden thinks. Then it dawns on her. _He's actually_… _**happy**__ this morning._

"Even minus my joe with a kiss of hemp milk, I'm a 1-900-Rockstar." _Speaking of which, _he thinks, _we need to stop for some coffee on our way in._

Linden smiles slightly in amusement at him. "You're in a good mood this morning," she tells him.

"That I am," Holder replies with a smile. 

"You want me to ask you why?" She's genuinely curious. Suddenly, he's like a whole different person. He's certainly not the one who's been growling at her the past few days. Not that she hasn't been just as foul-tempered, of course. 

"Sun's out, got my smokes, and a murder case worth working," he tells her.

She smiles at him, amused, but the main thing she feels when confronted with the man in front of her is confusion.

_How can he be so damn… happy? How is that even possible, when the shit surrounding us hasn't gone away? It's not __**going **__to go away? Sure, we're safe for the moment, but that could change any time. _

Yes, she's trying her best to keep it together and go minute by minute, but _happy_? No, at the moment she doesn't think she'll ever feel happy again. _If_ she's ever really even felt it before, of course.

The seemingly huge disparity in their moods makes her feel very, very far away from him, regardless of the fact that he's right there on the steps with her. It makes sense, though, when she thinks about it. He has a pretty good life, that is, when his screw-up partner isn't fucking it up for him. He's respected in the department now, he's gotten himself clean and stayed that way. He has Caroline and his sister and his nephew in his life, even if the relationship between him and his sister isn't the strongest. Still, it's true what he said. He does have reasons to be happy.

She's glad that he is, really. He deserves it. He's a good guy, and he's overcome a lot.

She has that sensation again, the feeling of falling off a cliff with nothing to grab onto. He can't help her. And if he can't help her, _no one_ can help her. No one else comes close… no one else even tries.

She's determined not to let the turmoil show on her face. This kind of stuff – her feelings, her insecurities – this is the stuff she's used to keeping bottled up, so it's easier for her than the shit she's been trying to hide lately about Skinner. She manages to keep smiling at Holder in amusement, hoping that that's all he sees. Because it's not a lie – not completely, at least. She really is amused by him, and she's genuinely happy for him. It's just that seeing him happy makes her feel even more alone.

She's not even sure why she so desperately wants to hide her feelings from him… he's the only one who gets her, after all, and by now he knows more about her than anyone else ever has. If anyone would understand, it's him. But there's nothing he can do, so what's the point? No, she doesn't need to be told that "it's okay." None of it's okay, so it would just be a lie anyway. Besides, this is something he won't understand. He's not alone like she is. It's so much easier not to admit that anything's bothering her and just go on with things.

No, it's definitely better if she keeps it to herself.

So she looks at him, smiling slightly and ignoring the tsunami inside her, and asks, "What about the piano? We get any prints on the inside or any of those cut up strings?" It's easier to steer the conversation back towards work. It's what they usually talk about anyway.

"No," he says, accepting her shifting the topic of conversation, "it was cut a long time ago. It's all dust up all up in there. It's impossible to get a print." 

Then Holder's phone rings, and he puts his cigarette in his mouth so that he can retrieve his phone from his pocket.

"Detective Holder." There's a pause while he listens to the person on the other end, then he says, "He's awake?"

Linden doesn't need to be told what that call is about. Without waiting for Holder to finish talking, she closes the file and stands up, walking up the stairs. Before they go back to talk to Kyle, she'd better get that shower that Holder advised her to take, which means she needs to get a move on. It's good, because she can keep herself busy with work and not think about the rest of it, the stuff that hurts to think about.

…

"Everyone makes mistakes." His words hang heavy in the air of their office. They've both made big ones lately, some much bigger and more serious than others. Not to mention all the big mistakes they've both made in the past. Yes, there's a lot behind his simple sentence, which was allegedly in reference to the Stansburys. She's not looking at him – she's working on something at her desk – and he wonders if she even hears what he's saying, the meaning behind the actual words. He thinks she does, but then, she spaces out sometimes.

Holder stares into space off to the side, his left arm propped up on his desk and his back facing the wall that their desks are pushed against, looking at the opposite wall. His mind is on work, for the most part anyway, trying to figure out what it is that they're missing in the Stansbury case. The shit about Linden shooting Skinner and Caroline being pregnant are blissfully pushed most of the way out of his mind, at least for this moment.

Their office is silent, and yet, each of them is comforted by the other's presence. They've spent a lot of time this way during the time they've worked together, both in this office and in that cramped, smelly car.

Of course, because the silence is so soothing, Reddick chooses that moment to appear, asking them if they're coming to Tikki Tavern for the $4.99 lunch special. Predictably, Linden declines, but Holder decides to go with him. Why the hell not? They're a little stuck right now, still trying to come up with the next lead, the next idea, their next move. And besides, he needs to eat.

Carl's a good guy as far as Holder's concerned. They worked together for the year after Linden disappeared after the Rosie Larsen case, and they got along fine. Holder knows that Linden and Reddick don't get along though, so he's not surprised when she says no to lunch. He wishes she'd join them, but knows there's no changing her mind. _If she'd just ease up a little_… but that's Linden. Intense, pretty much all the time.

Holder pauses in the doorway and looks at her. She's doing it again, he can tell. Being Linden. In other words, shutting down, pushing the world away. To some extent, it's how she works a case. There's a lot that goes on in her head, he knows, and sometimes it's where she gets her best ideas from… from processing things on her own. She wasn't pleased when they'd first started working together, hadn't wanted to have to work with anyone else. She's gotten much better at thinking out loud and working as a team over time, though. These days, they're a pretty damn good team… when one of them isn't having a nervous breakdown, of course.

And yet, he wonders if that's all that's going on beyond just normal Linden processing information. God knows there's enough things that _could _potentially be bothering her. She's been holding herself together a little better today, all things considered, but there's something new there too. That calm she's showing, there's more of a sadness to it.

He can tell that she doesn't want him to see it, but he does. He always notices when she pulls away. She doesn't _think _he does, maybe, doesn't want him to, but he does. And what can he do? He wants to help her, but how do you help someone who refuses to be helped? So he gives her space, knowing that pushing her too hard only makes her retreat further. The only way that he can see to help her, to be allowed to be there for her, is if he doesn't push her.

She half smiles at him as he leaves with Reddick, but says nothing, wondering if he sees right through the act that she puts on. There are lots of times where she gets the feeling that he does, that he can look at her and just know that she's only pretending to be fine, but that for some reason, he doesn't call her on it. At least not _every_ time, because there are some times when he does.

Or maybe it's just her imagination. Maybe she just _wants_ to believe that he sees through her, down to the sadness below the facade, because she wants so desperately for it to be true. The half-smile that she gives him as he pauses in the door way, it's genuine. She wishes that she could be a person who could just go out for lunch with her coworkers, who could let things go and make small talk and not ruin every good thing that comes her way. Alas, that seems to be exactly what she does, each and every time, at least in _her _mind.

She watches the two men walk down the hall and out of sight, then stands up and takes the Stansbury family picture off Holder's desk, sitting back down. She stares at the picture of the allegedly happy family, willing the faces in the picture to speak to her. To tell her what they're missing, because she knows that they're missing something important.

And just like that, she's engrossed in work again, and the rest of it melts away. She feels lighter, less burdened… _Safe_.

And completely alone. As always, she tells herself that it's better that way.

…

There's something about the last visit with Kyle at the hospital that leaves Linden unsettled.

It's not that he isn't doing well, because he is. He's getting ready to be discharged, in fact. Every time she talks to him, he seems to be doing better, all things considered. Oddly enough, the thing that rattles her isn't the scar that runs along the whole side of his head, or the brutal way that his whole family was killed. What bothers her is the conversation the two of them had about the book he's reading, East of Eden. It left her… what's the word? She's not nervous, not upset, just… she can't really describe it. The whole thing just hit too close to home, and try as she might, she can't get it out of her mind.

She had also read that same book in high school, though it's been years now, so she doesn't remember all the details. He says the book's about trying to find your way back home to Eden, about never belonging anywhere. Her heart hurts for this boy who, even without remembering what happened to him the night he was shot, seems to have been lost for far longer than the period of his missing memories extends. Maybe he didn't actually _want _to remember, which she could also relate to. She wished that she didn't have to remember lots of things.

Kyle had told her that he missed his little sister. In reply, Linden had told him that she knows what it's like to miss someone… and she certainly does know what that's like. She's been missing Jack ever since she sent him to Chicago to live with his father. But even more than that, she misses all of the people she has driven out of her life.

Well, that's not quite right. She doesn't necessarily miss those exact people. They may have been nice enough people, really, but they didn't understand, didn't get it… didn't get _her_. It isn't that she wishes she had those particular people into her life. Not exactly. She just wishes that there was _someone_, that she could _let_ someone…

_Let them __**what**__?_ she asks herself. But it's just not that simple, because she doesn't know.

She looks down at her kitchen table in front of her, flattens her hands against the wood and spreads out her fingers, staring at them. Her eyes shift up only slightly from her hands, and land on the gun and two shell casings sitting nearby. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, trying to be somewhere else. To be some_one_ else.

What it comes down to is that she just wishes that she didn't feel so alone… and she realizes how ironic that wish is, because she's very aware that _she's_ the reason that she's alone. She knows that she does it to herself; sabotages everything, burns it all to the ground. Still, she hates it. There had just been something about talking to Kyle that had been a painful reminder of everything that she wanted to forget, because yes, she knows that feeling all too well.

It's bad enough that she feels it, but to see it reflected back at her from this boy… it's almost more than she can bear. She would do almost anything to take that pain away from him, even if it meant adding to her already crushing burden.

She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, once again staring at her hands, which haven't moved. She and Holder are going to figure this out, solve this case. She may not be able to do anything else for Kyle, but she can do that much.

She almost jumps out of her skin a few seconds later when her phone buzzes in her pocket. Her attention snaps back to the present time as she flips it open and lifts it to her ear. "Linden," she answers quickly, aware that her voice sounds slightly hollow. She hadn't even bothered to glance at the caller ID.

"Yo, Linden, you on your way?" It's Holder. She feels herself relax, even as she glances at her watch and swears to herself. They're supposed to meet at the Stansbury house shortly to check on the divers' progress, and she's going to be late.

"Uh, yeah," she replies, jumping up hastily and grabbing her jacket. "On my way."

"At least be honest and tell me that you're just now leaving," he says, pretending to be mad. She rolls her eyes at him, even though he can't see her. He just knows her too well, and a tiny hint of a smile appears on her lips at the thought.

"Shut up, Holder, you don't know what you're talking about," she replies, but in a tone that she knows he'll recognize and take to mean exactly the opposite. She hears him chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Alright then, Linden, I'll see you over there soon, since you're _already on your way_." She can hear the smile in his voice as he emphasizes the last part, and can't help but smile herself.

"Right, bye." She closes her phone without waiting for a response, tossing it back in her pocket. She's already out the front door and locking up, down the steps and in the car before she realizes that the oppressive feeling she'd been suffering from as she sat and thought about Kyle, as though someone was compressing her chest, had lifted from her. She makes the connection, but refuses to acknowledge it. Just the fact that she makes the connection terrifies her, because it's just not something she ever allows herself to do.

She clears her mind, forcing the thoughts to the back and focusing on the task at hand. The Stansburys. The divers. Kyle. Even Skinner and the gun sitting on her kitchen table, just for good measure. Because as overwhelming as all of that is, it's easier than dealing with the thing that scares her most of all.

Hope.


	58. In the Dark

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episodes 1 and 2

"This is Detective Holder. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

It's so rare that she gets his voicemail, she's surprised for a moment. _It's the middle of the night, what do you expect? _she asks herself. _Some people actually sleep at night. _

Still, it's strange to her to think that he's sleeping… or simply living his life. He spends so much of his life with her, being part of_ her_ life, that she forgets sometimes that he has his own. It's easy to forget, because _she_ doesn't have much of a life besides the one with him, at work. It stings just a little, but she pushes the feeling aside quickly, like she always does.

"Hey, it's me," she tells his voicemail. She's sitting in the dark in her car, parked near the Stansbury house, talking slowly and quietly. "You can see into their house at night when the lights are on. It's a glass house. You can see everything." She pauses, almost as if she's waiting for a response. "We should talk to the neighbors in the morning. See if they know anything." Her voice sounds sleepy, but she's wide awake, staring almost unblinking into the darkness.

She can't think of anything else to tell his voicemail, so after sitting with the phone to her ear for a long pause, she closes it without another word and continues staring into the distance, mesmerized by the darkness.

When she's by herself in the dark in an isolated place like this, sometimes she wonders if she's really there at all. She supposes it's along the same lines as that age old question: "If a tree falls in the forest and no one's there to hear it, does it make noise?" If Sarah Linden is out in the dark in the middle of the night and no one else can see or hear her, is she really there? It's such a strange feeling, one that she loves and hates simultaneously.

In the dark, of course, you can see whatever is lit up, even from very far away. And that's how she feels from her own life, from everyone she knows. Very far away. It's safe here, sitting alone at a distance from it all where she can see things, but not have to be a part of them. After all, if no one can see her, it saves her the trouble of pushing them away, or spares her the pain that inevitably comes when they leave on their own. This makes the distance between her and everyone else comforting to her. Or at least she tells herself that it's comforting. Maybe it's just that the feeling is _familiar _more than anything_._ She has spent a lot of time feeling very far away from anyone and everyone.

She sits for a long time in the dark before finally starting her car. The slightest hint of color is already beginning to appear in the sky to the east. It occurs to her that the thing about sitting in the dark, so far away from it all, is that eventually the sky will grow light again. No matter how she might not want to, eventually she has to go back to her life among other people. It's hard for her to decide whether or not she's grateful for this.

…

Linden and Holder are just pulling into the parking lot outside the station when Linden's cell phone rings. As she talks, Holder parks the car and waits to hear what it's about. When she hangs up, she tells him that Deschler, the Stansbury's neighbor, has lawyered up, and that he has time-stamped photographs for the time of the murder. This gives him an alibi. On top of that, the pictures aren't even usable as evidence, being just muzzle flashes across a long stretch of darkness that reveal nothing that can help them in their investigation.

"So the kid's still our best suspect…" Holder muses. He continues to be convinced that Kyle is guilty, though Linden isn't buying it. "He _could_ be playing us…" Holder earns a dirty look from Linden for that remark. "I'm just saying. Convenient that he didn't tell us about his fucked-up family."

"No one talks about family secrets and you know it," she reminds him reproachfully. _We both have enough skeletons in our closets that he should know that already_, she thinks bitterly. She wonders if he has other secrets that he hasn't confided in her yet.

Then, maybe forgetting the power that these words would hold, he tells her matter-of-factly, "Not everyone messes up their kids. You know, it's a _choice_ how you act."

Linden just looks at him in disbelief, feeling as thought the wind has been knocked out of her by a swift kick to stomach. She's having trouble believing that those words just came out of his mouth, and she wonders if it was a purposeful jab at her. It doesn't escape her attention that he doesn't look embarrassed or remorseful to have just said that to her, so he apparently either doesn't realize how his words have just hurt her, or he doesn't care. She can't decide which option is worse.

Either way, the certainty with which he delivered the pronouncement makes it clear that that's Holder's feeling on the subject, with no room for exceptions – not even her. So whether he meant for it to be directed at her or not, that's what he honestly believes. In other words, he thinks she_ chose_ to screw up Jack's life, that she _chose _to be neglectful of her son, that she _could_ have done better as a mother but somewhere along the way made a decision not to... It's a blow she hadn't seen coming.

She swallows hard, then looks away, straight out the front windshield. She feels it again. The sensation that she's falling with nothing to grab onto and no one to catch her. She doesn't even have the energy to fight with him about what he'd just said, and whether he'd been talking about her, as she might have done a week or so ago. She doesn't even have the energy to react, and doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words had any effect on her.

If that's really what he thinks… well then, maybe she doesn't know him as well as she'd thought she had all this time. It makes her sad to think this, but really, hadn't she been expecting this all along? For his turn to come to leave her, like everyone else? Maybe their friendship had been too good to be true, after all. In any case, she's not going to bring it up. Not now, possibly not ever.

Then, somehow stopping herself before she goes into total shutdown mode, she steers the conversation back to Emmet Deschler… because when all else fails her, she has her work. "A uni said Emmett had a couple years' worth of photos. Let's go through them and see if there's anything we can pull," she suggests, already feeling comforted by the idea of work to do. Going through photos isn't the worst way to pass time, after all. Something's bound to jump out at them.

Holder looks at her as if he's not quite sure she's serious, then says, "Have to do it _manana._"_  
_

_Of course. He wants to go home. To Caroline. To his own life… _she thinks. Then she realizes why she's confused. _But when did __**that **__start? _she wonders. They've worked through the night countless times before, after all. She looks away, back out the front windshield, her face revealing the slightest hint of disappointment. Small though it is, he doesn't miss it.

"They'll still be dead tomorrow, Linden." He watches her stare straight ahead, not responding this time. He can see the disappointment in her face as clear as day, even though anyone else would have missed it. _She really expected us to work through the night? Again? _

He knows that he can't keep doing that the way they used to, burning the candle at both ends, doing whatever it is that Sarah Linden wants him to do. He's not a rookie anymore, after all. He doesn't feel like he has to prove himself like he did when he first started. Besides, with all the shit that's going on, that's _been_ going on, he needs a break here and there. He needs to have a life outside of the job in order to keep what's left of his sanity. But how can he tell that to Linden? To her, the idea of taking a break might as well be a foreign language. The woman would work herself to death if given the chance.

She can feel him looking at her, and she hates it because she knows that he can read her. This would have been so much easier if they'd never gotten to be _friends. _She doesn't want his pity, his understanding. She wants… she doesn't know what she wants. Right now she wants to scream and disappear at the same time. She wants to push him away, too, like everyone else. She wants to erase everything about her from his memory so that he won't look at her like _that._

Holder's stare burns into her as she tries to keep herself from crumbling. She can feel the façade weakening, though. Every day since she shot Skinner – she can't even remember how many days it has been anymore – she spends the day dreading this part, the end of the day. Not because she's in love with Holder or anything silly like that, but because it's just so much better to be with him than it is to be alone. Even when he's pissing her off, at least she's not sitting in her house by herself. That's when her demons find her most easily.

Of course, a lot of the time Holder would swear that she doesn't want him around, based on the way she acts. But even when she tells herself she wants to be alone, that he doesn't get her and never will, even when she's pushing him away herself, she still doesn't actually want him to go. Not really, deep down. What she really wants is for once, for someone in her life to ignore her when she pushes them away. To stay no matter what. But that want is buried so deep, even _she _can't see it. So of course, he can't see it either.

"What's the matter? You afraid to be alone or something?" he asks her. _Or maybe he can see it._

It pisses her off that he says that, because he's right and she knows it. And she _hates_ it, hates that he can see it so easily. Despite the fact that everything seems to be different between them since Skinner, he still knows her, but somehow it's not comforting that he knows her anymore. More and more, she's starting to wish that he didn't know her, because it just means that he has more power to hurt her than anyone else. More and more, the fact that Holder knows her but acts the way he has been acting towards her just makes her feel _more_ alone.

Suddenly, Skinner's voice echoes through her head. _"I have been alone for too long… and so have you." _A chill runs down her spine, but she ignores it, attempting to push Skinner out of her head. No matter how true his words may have been, it doesn't change the fact that he was a psychopath, doesn't change the horrible things that he did, or the fact that she shot him. Nothing can change any of it now. No, she didn't love him. No, she didn't need him. Not ever. She doesn't need _anyone_.

_Who the hell does Holder think he is, anyway? He doesn't know crap about me! _her mind screams. She ignores the voice that contradicts her, because she doesn't want to hear what she knows is true – that he knows her pretty damn well.

All at once, it's too much. Linden doesn't say anything, just opens the door and gets out of the car, slamming it behind her. She doesn't look back, just walks away.

Holder watches her go, cursing himself silently and shaking his head. He reminds himself that he could have been more sensitive, a little nicer to her just there. He thinks about the words that came out of his mouth, and what he knows about Linden, and he feels like crap. What he just said to her, she's not going to forget that. It's going to haunt her. She only believes the bad shit about herself, pretty much nothing good. They're both just so fucking wound up these days, it's hard to remember in the moment how much his words affect her. He forgets that inside the tough outer shell, she's probably close to breaking inside… if she hasn't already.

_You're supposed to be on __**her**__ side, asshole,_ he tells himself angrily.

He wants to go after her – he almost does it. He wants to try to help her, but what would be the use? She doesn't want to be alone, but she doesn't seem to want him there, either. She just wants to work the goddamn case twenty-four fucking hours a day, with him along for the ride only as long as she feels like it. Well, he can't do that, and he _won't_ do it. It's not healthy. He wants to catch the Stansburys' killer as much as anyone else, but not at the cost of his entire life. He never signed up for that.

Sighing, he starts the car. He's not angry with her per se, frustrated maybe, but what can he do for her? Very little, because now it seems like she's determined to push _him_ away like she does to everyone else. _And apparently, _he tells himself, _you're determined to be an asshole to her and make it a hell of a lot easier. _Shaking his head sadly, he puts the car in drive. This whole thing is twenty-nine different kinds of fucked up. Can they ever get past it? It's something he's been wondering lately, and more and more, it seems like the answer is _no_.

As Linden walks toward the door of the station, she is aware of Holder's car pulling away from the curb. For just a second, she feels the void of him leaving, but again she pushes it aside, tells herself she doesn't care. He's already gone when she stops in the road, still some distance from the front door to the station, because she sees Bethany Skinner walking out with Reddick. Linden ducks into her car and leans back against the headrest, breathing erratically. When she looks again, Reddick has opened the passenger side door of his car for Bethany, which is parked nearby, and she's climbing in. Linden slumps back in the seat again, bouncing her head back against the headrest nervously, gasping for air. She doesn't know what Reddick is up to, but she has a very bad feeling about it.

…

Linden and Holder are standing in the mess hall at St. George's, where the cadets are eating dinner at long tables. Barging in on the meal in front of all of them hadn't quite been the plan, but their "friend" Margaret Raine hadn't been available, so they'd let themselves in to find Kyle. It was probably not their best idea, but neither of them were exactly well rested enough to make their best decisions. Col. Raine finds them there, and there's a less that friendly exchange between the two women. Holder backs off when Col. Raine threatens to file a formal complaint against them with the Deputy Commissioner, but Linden refuses to relent so easily.

Holder begins his retreat, saying "Alright, let's go, Linden. Come on." After meeting the colonel's icy stare for several more seconds, she reluctantly follows Holder out of the room. As soon as they're in the hall outside the mess hall, however, it's clear that Linden is pissed off at him. He's not entirely sure that he doesn't see steam coming out of her ears – that's how upset she seems to be.

For the first few seconds after they leave the mess hall, all Linden can see is red. Not Holder, not the ugly linoleum floor, not any of her surroundings. She doesn't let it deter her, however, and takes off at a furious pace anyway. She can't believe that he just gave in like that. _What the hell is wrong with him, anyway? How are they supposed to conduct an investigation when Holder just gives up and walks away? The questions they have for Kyle, they're important. They need answers._

Holder had stopped outside the doorway to wait for her, and she pushes past him forcefully, not looking back. By the time he realizes that she's not slowing down, he almost has to jog to catch up to her as she barrels down the hall toward the front door.

She knows deep down that she's being unreasonable, but she doesn't care. She has always gone with her gut before, and while it doesn't always make the best decisions, her intuition when it comes to her _job_, at least, is usually right in the end. Something is not adding up, and she's not going to stop until she finds out what it is. If Holder's not going to help her, then he can get out of her way and shut the hell up.

He's jogging behind her, calling, "Linden! Yo, wait up!" but she ignores him. _He wants to act like a goddamn brown-nosing puppy, then I'll treat him like one_, she thinks to herself. She's had enough of his bullshit. Of _everyone's _bullshit. Why can't they all just let her do her fucking job?

They reach the front door, and Linden pushes it open, hard, breaking the silence of the day outside with a loud crashing noise. Across the driveway on the grass, a small flock of birds flies away, startled by the sudden disturbance. Holder has given up on catching up to her, and instead hangs back, deciding that it's better to let her cool off a little before trying to talk to her. He hadn't expected her to be quite this upset. After all, he's just trying to keep both of them from ending up without a job to speak of.

Outside the front door, his pace slows even more as he watches her stomp purposefully to the car. To say that Linden doesn't handle stress well would be an understatement. He lights a cigarette and walks slowly towards the car, taking his time. He wants her to have a few minutes to calm down before they're trapped in the car together for a while. Not that that will necessarily calm her down, but it's worth a shot.

When he reaches the car, Linden's sitting in the passenger seat, her phone to her ear, staring out the front window and nodding as if she's being given information. He drops his cigarette butt and steps on it, the climbs into the driver's seat, glancing at her as he puts on his seatbelt. Linden doesn't say much into the phone, but he has a feeling that she's just finished tearing into whoever it is she's talking to. He starts the engine as she ends the call without saying goodbye, snapping the phone closed harder than is necessary and almost throwing it into the center console.

"So, we goin' back to the station or what?" he asks, wondering if she's going to bite his head off. The only response he gets is a single nod, though she doesn't look in his direction. The look on her face is murderous, but luckily it's directed through the windshield and not at him directly.

They ride in silence for a while, until finally Holder can't help but think, _alright, enough with this bullshit. _"Kid's lying," Holder tells her. "He knows something. He probably knows Kat. They could've done it together."

Linden is still so angry, she's almost shaking. "Don't _ever _do that again," she replies. Her tone is icy.

He can see that she did not take his help in the spirit in which it had been intended. _Nothing new there, _he thinks, preparing himself to talk her down again. It seems like it's all he does anymore. But he's just about as stubborn as she is, so he's game. He's not giving up on her, no matter what she seems to think.


	59. I'm Drowning

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 3

When they meet up that morning outside the station, Linden's a mess. Not just a little bit of a mess, either. She isn't frantic or jumpy like she had been the first day after the shit with Skinner, but looking at her, he knows that this isn't a good day. He doesn't think she slept, _again_, and she just looks… completely drained. Exhausted. Defeated.

"Rough night?" he asks tentatively. He's not trying to be mean, but she has to know that she looks like hell. Besides, Linden's a straight shooter, and it's not as though he's never told her she looked like hell when she _did_ in the past.

She stares out the windshield ahead of her, into the rain that's beating mercilessly against the car. She nods her head almost imperceptibly, not even turning to look at him. _This isn't good_, he thinks. He racks his brain, trying to think of what to say that will get through to her, which isn't easy considering that he doesn't actually know what is freaking her out so badly today. It could be a lot of different things.

"You alright?" he asks, continuing to watch her stare ahead vacantly. She's definitely not operating at full capacity at the moment. "Linden?"

After a slightly pause, her eyes flick towards him, but her head barely moves, then just as quickly, she looks back out at the rain. "I'm _fine_," she whispers.

"Oh, yeah, you look _fine,_" Holder says sarcastically. He knows, however, that he's not going to get anywhere with her that way.

He sighs heavily, wishing that Linden didn't have to be so… _Linden_ all the time. He decides he needs some coffee if this is how the day is going to go, and he's pretty sure that she will too. After all, he can't do a damn thing about most of the problems that are bouncing around making so much noise in her head, but there's one thing that he _can _do. And that one thing is to bring her some caffeine. Most of the time there's more of it than blood in her system, so he figures that she probably needs some right now.

She doesn't seem to have even heard his sarcastic remark, so he tries again. "Linden, I'm gonna go grab us some coffee down the block. You waitin' for me, or what?"

He doesn't even really expect her to answer, he's just going through the motions of a conversation at this point. So he's surprised when he hears her softly reply, "Yeah. I'll be here." _It's a start, _he thinks.

So he jumps out of the car into the pouring rain and sprints to the coffee shop at the end of the block to get them some breakfast. A few minutes later, he returns with coffee and a few different kinds of muffins, hoping he can get her to eat. If he were to guess, he'd say that there's a good chance that she hasn't eaten since the last time he saw her eat, sometime the previous afternoon. She takes the coffee from him without comment – not a surprise, considering Linden's relationship with caffeine. He pulls out a muffin and tells her to eat, even tries to make a joke out of it, saying they might need to chase down Kat at the Stansbury funeral and she'll need her strength. His attempt at humor is lost on her, however, because she doesn't appear to have heard a thing he said. Again, he can't help but worry about her.

Then suddenly she starts speaking, as though he hasn't just been talking to her for the past several minutes – unimportant though his chatter had been. "Holder…" she begins timidly. There's only one or two times he's ever heard her sound so fragile, and it's pretty unnerving. The time that springs to his mind the fastest is that day at the mental hospital, when she begged him not to leave her there.

He watches her carefully as she looks up at him. From her expression, it appears that she's about to break. "I can't find the second shell casing. I've looked everywhere," she tells him.

Worry washes over him as well. They can't afford to make mistakes, to leave loose ends. "You put 'em both on the table, right?" That's what she had told him, anyway.

"Yeah," she replies, her voice shaky.

He shakes his head slightly, looking down. "It's gotta be in the house. You looked, right?"

She nods slightly, looking back at him. "_Everywhere_."

"What about the gun?" he asks.

"I got rid of it, like you told me to. I'm not stupid."

"So it's there," he tells her calmly. "Don't worry about it. Come on, eat something." He's willing to accept that the casing is merely misplaced in her house. _The simplest explanation is usually the right one_, after all. It's not as though Linden's been having people over. The fact that she'd been with Skinner – that she'd been with _anyone_ – still seemed out of character for Linden, much less the idea that anyone else would have been at her place with an opportunity to do anything with the shell casing. So it had to be there.

With that taken care of, he's back to his previous concern about her not eating. Linden, however, is not so easily deterred. "What about LoJack? Someone could find his car in that lake because we didn't check his LoJack." He can see that she's in full-on panic mode now.

But this time Holder's one step ahead of her. "I did. It didn't. He had it disabled. The last thing he wanted was for someone to be able to track him." He is really, really fucking glad he thought to check that.

Linden pauses, her concrete concerns are now satisfied for the moment, but that doesn't stop her mind from spinning a million miles a second. "How could I not have known who he was?" she asks pitifully. Holder knows that the question isn't directed at him, that she's thinking aloud and probably doesn't even realize that she's speaking. Then just like that, she's talking to _him_ again. "I don't know if I can do this," she tells him. He can see that she's trying to steady herself, but she's holding on by a thread, like so many times before. He has seen her go through a lot in the time he's known her, and he has seen her both at her strongest and at her most fragile, sometimes at the same time. Even so, he's pretty sure that this is a new low for her. He just keeps watching her.

_I can't do this, _she thinks. _How can I possibly tell him?_

_You can, _she reminds herself. _It's Holder. You wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but you can tell __**him**_.

So she decides to do it, because what the hell does she have to lose at this point? Pretty much nothing.

Her voice breaks as she whispers, "I'm drowning, Holder."

On one hand, his heart breaks for her. She fights so hard, and yet nothing ever seems to go her way. More specifically, everything somehow goes the _opposite _of her way for the most part. Her life has become so fucked up – _she's_ so fucked up – in _so many_ ways… he can certainly empathize with that. He wants to help her, the same way he has _always_ wanted to help her. They're partners. They're friends. _Best friends. _He's done far more for her than he would ever have considered doing for anyone else, and he doesn't regret it. Well, most of it, anyway.

On the other hand, something inside him whispers that on some level, at least a little bit, she has done this to herself. Looking at it objectively, he supposes, she has. Not that every shitty thing that has happened to her in her life is her fault, because it most certainly isn't. Where she is right now, however, is a different story. _She _is the one who killed Skinner, after all. The reason she's so clearly losing her mind is because of what _she _did. In the same way that she technically killed Skinner, he's technically an accessory, though all he did, all he's _ever _done pretty much as long as he's known her, is to try to help her.

So while he feels terrible for her, in another way he's at the point where he has realized that he has to start thinking about himself before Sarah Linden, because she can't see how her shitty choices affect other people. Not because she's malicious or selfish, just because she can't see it. There's too much other noise in her head. But for him, there's too much at stake now, and he cannot – no, he _will _not – let her drag him down with her. He pauses before answering her, trying to collect his thoughts.

In a voice so calm he even surprises himself, he says simply, "You have to."

They look each other in the eyes for a long few seconds. His calm unnerves her. Calm _always _unnerves her. She is so rarely calm, and when she is, it's because she has literally exhausted all of her emotions. Seeing Holder so calm now… it's terrifying. All she can assume is that it means that he feels nothing, because that's what she feels when she's calm. Uttering that one sentence to him, those three words, may have been the hardest thing she'd ever done, and all he can do is give her an empty look and tell her that there's no choice but to do what they're already doing. Once again she feels betrayed, and she has the now all too familiar sensation of falling off a cliff.

_I opened up to him, told him something I would not admit to any other person in the entire world… and he just stares at me. He feels nothing. _She thinks she might be sick, or maybe it's just that her stomach is going to tear itself into shreds. It doesn't matter, anyway. She's going to drown in all of this, so none of it matters.

"We got no choice," he adds quietly. He knows she's not going to understand, that she's going to think he doesn't care. But there's nothing he can do about it.

But Linden doesn't want to be deterred. "Yeah, we do. I could, um, just tell them who he was. What he was."

"Are you fucking crazy?" he blurts out. "After everything we've gone through? Look, I'm not going to jail for that scumbag." He pauses, considers not telling her, but decides that he might as well. He's not quite sure how she's going to take it, being the way she is with emotions and all that shit, but they haven't lied to each other before, beyond maybe saying things were fine when they weren't, and he has no desire to start now, even just a lie of omission. Not now that they're in so deep together. He pauses and considers how to say it, but decides to just come right out with it. "Caroline's pregnant."

She stares at him, her face completely devoid of emotion. She had _just_ managed to make her stomach stop lurching, and now she's falling again. She can't even understand why those two words affect her so much, make things so much worse, so she certainly can't figure out how to react. She was already drowning. It's possible that she's now being _held_ her under the water she was drowning in.

So this was it. His allegiance would hereafter always be to his family. That thing that he has, and she does not. Never has, and never will. Thought he's right beside her, she suddenly feels like he's very, very far away from her, so far that the distance can't be overcome.

Holder continues, not completely sure that Linden is hearing him anymore, but hoping that she can. "Everything is different now. I'm gonna be a dad." He pauses and glances up at her. "Gonna have a wife and baby that need me."

God, he suddenly feels so guilty. _Why should I feel guilty about this? _he wonders. He looks out the front window at the rain, then back at her nervously. She still isn't reacting. He can almost see her retreating inside herself again, though she hasn't actually moved a muscle. It's just a sense that he has. When it comes to Linden, he has a sixth sense that's almost always right… not that it does him any good.

"So here's what we're gonna do, Linden. We're gonna move forward and leave this shit behind." Then suddenly his tone changes. Suddenly, he's _almost_ the old Holder, the one she knew what feels like lifetimes ago. "So eat your fucking muffin. We got a funeral to get to."

She stares at him, her face stricken, almost without blinking. Her eyes are moist, but she isn't crying. She is literally beyond emotion, though it's waiting in the wings for its chance to return in full force as soon as she recovers even slightly. She wants to explain things to him, though she herself doesn't understand what they are. She hopes that if she looks hard enough at him, maybe she'll see it reflected in his eyes, or he'll see it in her eyes and then he'll explain it to _her_. It used to be that way. Somehow, they used to be able to communicate without speaking. Of course, that was _before_. Before she fucked it all up, so utterly and so completely.

He looks away first, down in front of him, because he can't tell which part of what he just told her is bothering her the most. He stares out at the rain on the passenger side, hating both himself for having this effect on her when all he wanted to do was help her, but also hating her a little bit for being the reason he's in the situation in the first place. _Life isn't fair, but this is just beyond fucked up_.

She can't speak. She can't cry. She can't think. She can barely even blink. As if on autopilot, she starts the car and puts it into gear, navigating the rain-soaked streets until they reach the cemetery, ignoring the look of concern that Holder gives her the entire way. There's nothing she can say or do that will change anything, so she just drives. After parking the car, she grabs the door handle and gets out of the car without a word or a backward glance, then stops about ten feet from the car, facing into the distance.

The last thing Holder notices before he gets out of the car to follow her is that she has finished her coffee, but that she never did eat the fucking muffin. Sighing, he opens the door to follow her.


	60. I'm Sorry

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 4

In the past twenty-four hours, Linden and Holder had both pretty much hit rock bottom. Separately, they'd both managed to ostracize the people who were among the most important to them. For Holder, it was his sister, Liz, as well as Caroline, though maybe not quite as badly. For Linden, it was Regi, and to a more limited degree, Jack as well.

As if that weren't bad enough, they weren't even on good terms with _each other_. The stress of it all – dealing with the aftermath of Skinner and focusing on not being connected to his disappearance, along with the Stansbury case – had been getting to them. When Linden had called bullshit on Holder, asking if he'd used again – which he _had_ – he'd gotten pissed off at her. Of course, they still had the Stansbury murder to solve, so they needed to be able to work together and the friction wasn't helping. On subject of the case, they were hitting roadblocks at every turn.

Meanwhile, Reddick was circling closer and closer, unwilling to let go of the idea that Skinner wasn't merely on vacation. He'd been asking lots of questions, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what his suspicions were. You could say that things were pretty bad, and there didn't seem much hope that they'd be getting any better anytime soon.

Linden was sitting in the car, rain pouring down on the city in buckets, as usual. She was reading a print out as she waited for Holder to make his appearance, feeling irritated with him even though he hadn't arrived yet. As she scanned the page, he opened the passenger side door and got in the car quickly, closing it behind him against the rain. He had brought their customary peace offering – coffee and a paper bag holding some type of pastry, on the outside chance he could convince Linden to eat. He handed her a coffee, which she took despite how she felt about him at the moment, and they sat in silence for a few seconds.

Knowing how stubborn Linden was, Holder decided to break the silence first. He'd been the one who'd been the asshole after all, so it was only fair. "Any word on that warrant?"

"Weak probable cause," Linden replied flatly. "The judge won't grant it. Lincoln would be an idiot to keep that gun at the academy. It's probably somewhere in the Puget Sound by now." He could tell that she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

She sipped her coffee, unwilling to participate in the détente that Holder seemed to be trying for, unwilling to make any kind of small talk. Not that she made small talk normally, because she didn't.

He looked over at her, all out of shop talk but still wanting to keep the conversation going. He had a lot of regrets about the past few days, but none of them burdened him quite as much as the way he'd spoken to Linden the previous day. She had done nothing but call him on his bullshit, as she always did. It was one of the things he liked best about her, as a matter of fact, so he had no right to be angry with her for it now. He'd been a dumbass, and then an asshole, after all. It was his own fault that she was pissed at him.

"So what's on today's itinerary?" he asked her in a tone that was far more casual than how he actually felt. If he was lucky, maybe she wouldn't bite his head off, so this was his way of testing the waters.

"Unis've been hitting gas stations all night, coming up with zip. I'm getting a lot of pushback, so…" she replied without looking up from the paperwork in front of her.

"Alright. Ain't nothin' like a pleasant drive in the countryside lookin' at some stanking-ass toilets. Let's go," he replied nonchalantly.

It didn't escape Linden's attention that he said this without a hint of sarcasm or disdain, as he had the last time Linden had suggested inspecting gas station toilets for evidence on a hunch. She knew what he was doing, that he was trying to patch things over between them without actually saying the words, but she felt like she deserved to hear them. He needed to take responsibility for himself. Wasn't that one of the twelve steps, after all?

So as much as she was relieved to see that he was being civil today, she wasn't going to act like yesterday hadn't happened. He needed to own up to his behavior. She didn't make any moves to start the car, glancing quickly at Holder, then looking away.

He looked down in understanding, knowing what she was waiting for, and knowing that she deserved to hear it. Despite the knot that had just tied itself in his stomach as he thought of what he needed to say to her, he also felt a slight warmth inside as he realized that they were back in synch, even if Linden _was_ pissed at him. They had just communicated without saying a word, and he had heard her message loud and clear. It was something along the lines of _You'd better apologize for being an asshole yesterday, or we're not going anywhere_. She had every right to be pissed at him, and he felt like a jackass.

"I was fucked up yesterday," he said, not offering further information about what "fucked up" referred to. "My bad." He wasn't good with apologies. Hell, he didn't feel like he was good with words in general most of the time. He stopped and looked at Linden to gauge her reaction to his semi-articulate apology.

Linden looked at him seriously for a few long seconds. The way he had talked to her the day before… coming from anyone else it wouldn't have stung nearly as much. But Holder… he was the one person in the world that she had let her guard down for. She had to be sure that they were good again, or there was no way she could forgive him. The garbage that had just come out of his mouth? He needed to do better than that.

"Is that an apology?" she asked him evenly. Her voice gave nothing away. She genuinely wanted to know if that was the best he could do. Though she didn't generally have a very good opinion of herself, for once Linden had the feeling that she deserved better. That he could _do _better.

He looked a little defensive, as though she should know that that's what he meant the words to be, and he shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

For a few seconds he was confused, because he really thought that what he'd said had constituted an apology. The look on her face, however, told him otherwise. _You can do better_, the voice in his head told him. After a pause, he spoke again, though hesitantly. "Yeah… I said it, didn't I?"

When he realized that Linden was not going to accept his weak excuse for an apology, he looked down again, his expression changing to genuinely apologetic. She didn't need to explain what she was waiting for, because he finally knew. Many other times, things between them went unspoken but understood, and that was fine. More than fine, it was actually pretty amazing. This time, however, she wanted to hear the words. _Fair enough_, he thought.

He looked back up at her, meeting her eyes, and said what he should have said in the first place; "I'm sorry."

"Do we need to talk about anything else?" she asked evenly, without skipping a beat.

"I just want my kid's sins to be his own," Holder told her quietly.

It was clear that she had been thinking about this for more than a few minutes. "Yeah, I know," she conceded. _Boy, do I understand that one_, she thought.

They both alternated between glancing at each other and staring elsewhere as the rain beat down around them. Suddenly, however, the silence between them no longer felt oppressive. The tension began lifting, and the air felt less suffocating.

Once again, Holder was the one to break the silence. "How do you do it? How do you not fuck 'em up?"

Linden looks surprised. "You're asking _me_ that?" _Surely he remembers all the ways I failed at not fucking up my own kid along the way_, she thought in surprise.

"Yeah," he replied simply.

She considered it for a few seconds. She supposed she could give her opinion, even if it was only theoretical. Finally, she replied, "You just do your best." What else could you do? What else could _anyone_ do?

"What if someone's best ain't shit?" It amazed her, this side of Holder that didn't use humor to deflect things. It was extremely rare to see it, since humor was his coping mechanism – just like pushing people away was hers. Sometimes she forgot just how similar they were. Right now, he genuinely wanted her advice on parenting, for whatever reason. He was voicing his fears about being a father, without jokes.

At the same time, she had the feeling that he was asking her about more than just parenting. Everything they'd been through lately… they'd been doing their best, and look at where it had gotten them. She could understand how her advice – "just do your best" – was slightly terrifying. After all, their best had gotten them _into_ their current mess, and they really didn't know how to get out of it.

"You're _here_," she reminded him. She wasn't quite sure how to explain how much that meant… that he was there, and that he wanted to make things right. People around her, they never seemed to care enough to do that. She was used to them just… leaving. Not just leaving, leaving without looking back. No one stayed… not that she gave most of them the chance anymore. And yet, he was still here.

"That's what matters," she continued honestly. "It's kinda the_ only_ thing that matters. That you show up… You'll be alright."

Of course, she couldn't be sure that he'd be alright, that either of them would… but what _could _anyone ever be sure of in life? She was as sure as she _could _be that things would work out for Holder. They hadn't for her, but he was different. Whatever his faults, Holder had proven to her again and again that he was a good guy. She was pretty sure that he would do a _much _better job at the whole parenting thing than she had done. She was, and always had been, a disaster, the person most likely to crash and burn… or that's how it had always felt, anyway.

He looked down, away from her. It looked like he was struggling with something. "Everybody thinks I'm a piece of shit tweak-head." Her heart ached for him, because she understood so much of what it felt like to be thought so little of. Before speaking again, he looked back up at her. In that second, he looked more vulnerable than she remembered ever seeing him. "You seem to think I'm something better."

It only seemed right to return his sincerity with her own, without the jokes or sarcasm that made up the way they spoke to each other pretty much all of the time. She smiled genuinely at him, hoping that between the look on her face and a few words, carefully chosen to mean something only to the two of them, she could convey just how highly she thought of him. "Yeah. You're a 1-900-ROCK-STAR," she told him earnestly.

He leaned his head back against the head rest in surprise, a smile taking over his face, then his head dropped forward toward his chest in embarrassment. Just like her, he was very much accustomed to internalizing the bad things that people said about him, and taken aback at the kindness of what she had just said. In other words, he'd taken it exactly the way she'd hoped he would.

"Awwww," he chuckled, still grinning from ear to ear.

She chuckled too them, watching him try to take her compliment. It felt good to know that at that moment, things between them were okay. Better than okay. Neither of them did _sappy_, so they were both a bit surprised by the warm feeling they each got from those few sentences.

At that moment, all was right with the world, at least the world that existed in that car. However, there was still a lot of work to do, so Linden reached to start the engine. Whatever they were facing, at least they were doing it together. Because she knew that it wouldn't last, Linden savored the feeling of that moment. It had been a long time since she had felt quite so at peace.

…

She was just about to get into the car after leaving Holder at the gas station where they'd finally found a tooth fragment belonging to Philip Stansbury in a bathroom drain. Holder caught up to her by the car just before she got in. She'd left him on scene only a few minutes before, after getting a call from Jack. She had simply told him that she needed to go, that it was because of Jack. Linden wasn't usually big on long explanations unless they were necessary and work related, so Holder didn't know what Jack had gotten himself into, but it was serious enough that she was going to wherever he was immediately.

The driver's side door was open when he walked up quickly behind her. "Yo, Linden," he called to her, closing the last few feet between them as she stopped and turned around, looking at him in confusion. She'd only just told him that she needed to go because of Jack. They'd literally just talked a minute ago. She frowned, wondering if something was wrong that she didn't know about.

After watching Linden walk away, Holder's mind had played several quick scenarios of Jack-related reasons why Linden would choose to leave work so suddenly, right in the middle of a break in the investigation. Linden generally didn't stop working for _any_ reason if she could help it. Hell, he had to convince her to eat, sleep and shower more than half the time. Yes, he could understand why Jack would be more of a priority than taking care of herself. Despite how she may have neglected him at times, he knew that she loved that kid. That was just how Linden ticked: laser focus on one thing – that one thing almost always having been work – putting the rest of the world second, and her own well-being last. After everything they'd been through together, Holder felt faintly protective of the kid. He'd seen him grow up before his eyes over the past few years. The truth was, when Linden had bolted like that, Holder had been a little worried.

Jack was only back in Seattle on Spring Break, and Holder knew what a sensitive topic he was for Linden. She was extremely conscious of the many ways she has failed as a mother. He still felt bad about the comment he'd made to her when he'd been angry, when he'd told her she should go spend time with Jack while he was in town… his implication that she was reglectful of him even now. Whether it was the truth or not, it had been a low blow, and he knew it.

Now, as he caught up with her at the car, she looked at him questioningly. "Everything ok?" she asked him with concern as he stopped in front of her.

He looked confused for a second, not understanding why she'd asked him that, when that was what he'd wanted to ask _her_. "What?" he asked, then, his brain catching up with what was happening, he nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah, it's fine." She looked relieved. "It's just… is everything okay with Little Man?"

The confusion cleared from her face, and she couldn't help but smile slightly. _Holder's worried about Jack?_ It was actually kind of… _cute_ was the only word that came to mind. "Yeah, I mean, he sounded okay… he just asked me to meet him at the park. I don't know what he's up to, but we have a little time now, and you were right, you know, when you said…" she stopped, her smile fading as she pursed her lips and looked at the ground.

Without even realizing it, Holder began shaking his head. He knew exactly where she was going with that sentence. "Nah, Linden. What I said, that was me bein' an asshole. I mean, he's your kid, I _know_ you wanna spend time with him… And me of all people, well…" he trailed off, but quickly found his voice again and added, "I'm in no position to judge you." He looked at her, silently begging her to meet his eyes so he could show her how sincerely he meant what he'd said, until she finally glanced up at him.

The look on her face showed just how hard his comment had struck a nerve. His guilt swelled up without warning and suddenly he couldn't look her in the eye any longer, so he pointed his eyes toward the ground instead. " 'm sorry. _Again,_" he added quietly. _I am truly the world's biggest asshole,_ he thought miserably.

_He certainly is big on apologizing today_, she thought, the tension in her stomach relaxing slightly. But she couldn't stay mad at him. Not him, and not today of all days, when things between them were finally good again. She felt the sting of his words lift, and somehow found herself almost smiling at him.

"Holder," she said quietly, and this time she waited for him to look at her. When he did, she told him simply, "_Stop_." Once again, no other words were necessary. He nodded slightly at her, but remained silent. The message was received. _Stop doing this to yourself. We're good. You're forgiven._

"You'll…" he started, but stopped short of articulating his thought and shook his head dismissively. _Never mind._

"Call you if I need you?" she finished for him, smirking because she knew that was what he wanted to say. "Of course. I promise." She enjoyed the surprised look on his face as he shook his head at her, his surprise turning into his own smirk at her.

"Alright then, later, mamacita," he said as he turned to head back toward the techs he'd left waiting for him when he'd followed Linden.

Linden finally climbed into the car, still smiling slightly and shaking her head. She knew that it wouldn't last, but for that moment, things were good.


	61. Freaking Out

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 4

"Uh, there's a crime scene down at the lake," Harjo had told Linden when she asked what all the techs were doing bustling around the station so late in the day. His words hadn't really had a chance to sink in before her phone rang, and Holder's name came up on her caller ID. _Perfect timing_, she thinks, and tells him almost in her first breath that Margaret Raine is the owner of the burgundy Corolla that they'd finally located at St. George's. He doesn't react to her news, however, because they have a much bigger problem that anything remotely related to the Stansbury case. He hadn't even heard her, not really.

His next words are almost deafening in her ear. "Reddick's at the lake house. He found the bodies."

_Please, let me have heard that wrong_, she thinks desperately.

"What?" Linden asks him, suddenly petrified.

"He found Skinner," is all Holder says, but those three words terrify her more than any she can remember hearing, with the possible exception of the words "I love you," which have faded somewhere into her now-distant past along with the few people who've ever said them to her.

She stands frozen in place with fear in the middle of the hallway… because this is it. This is where it all unravels, where their descent begins. She'd thought that things were bad before, but she knows that it will make what they've been through so far look like a cake walk. No matter how she likes to tell herself that they have covered all of their bases, she knows deep down that the odds of them having done so perfectly are next to nothing. After all, she's a homicide detective, for God's sake! The number of people she has seen over the years who thought they'd committed the perfect crime is staggering. Despite, no, _because of_ her relative expertise in this field, she also knows exactly what they're up against. It's going to get very ugly, very soon.

Her teeth are clenched and she's having trouble breathing normally. Scratch that, she's having trouble breathing _at all. _

"Linden? Are you there?" Holder's words are in her ear again, but now everything has that now-familiar slow-motion underwater sound to it. Just like they did when she had first discovered that Skinner was the Pied Piper. The day that she ended up shooting him. The day that what was left of her already pathetic excuse for a life began falling apart completely. "Linden?" Holder asks again, sounding more concerned each time he said her name. "Linden, you at the station? I'm gonna come pick you up," he tells her. She just nods, not realizing that the gesture wouldn't register through the phone in the haze of shock in which she now finds herself. She flips the phone closed and drops it into her pocket without even thinking about it.

_They found the bodies. All of them, Skinner too. Or if they hadn't found the girls yet, they soon would. _Her mind works sluggishly but desperately to process the information she had just taken in, as she walks robotically toward the front door of the station. She had wanted the girls' bodies to be found, so badly that it had almost seemed worth it to let them find Skinner, to reveal what they had done. What _she _had done. But because Holder had been a part of it, and because he is determined to protect his own future even if she doesn't seem to care about hers, she has tried her hardest to come to terms with the fact that the girls' remains would never be recovered. It killed her to accept that, and she may not have been able to swallow that kind of agony for anyone else. But for Holder… she does what she has to do. They've been through so much together. He's the only person in the world that she can call a friend. It might not mean much to other people, but to her, that means everything.

She makes it outside the station and into the cold rain that's falling, following the sidewalk around the corner of the building where she won't be subject to the stares of everyone coming and going through the front door. The sun is setting and the dark is closing in around the city quickly. It seems like a metaphor for how she feels. The dark is closing in around her quickly in her mind, as well. She shudders, feeling sudden panic as she wonders what will happen when the darkness encloses her completely, squeezes too tightly. Her eyes close and she leans back against the side of the building for support. Breathing doesn't seem to be coming naturally at the moment, and she finds herself gulping slightly for air. _This can't be happening. It can't._

Holder pulls up to the curb in the patrol car in which they spend so much of their time, but Linden is oblivious. He rolls down the window to talk to her, tell her to come get in the car, but his words don't seem to have any effect on her. Her eyes remain closed and she doesn't give any sign that she hears him. Even from a distance he can see that she is freaking out, and he silently thanks God or Buddha or whoever that she had the sense to come around the corner and not do this by the front door of the station. As it is, though, there are still too many eyes on them for his comfort at the moment. He's pretty freaked out himself, though clearly he's in better shape than Linden.

He gets out of the car slowly, trying not to draw attention to them from anyone who might be passing by. Most of the people who "might be passing by," after all, are cops. They can escape suspicion, at least at this moment, as long as they don't act like anything is wrong. After all, as he knew first hand, cops are trained to be vigilant and observant about situations, even when they aren't expecting trouble.

Walking towards her, he calls out her name nonchalantly. "Yo, Linden." His standard greeting is met with no response, not even a flicker of recognition. Her eyes are still closed. He can see that no external sound is making it to her brain over the noise in her own head. Once again he is grateful that she made it this far outside the station on her own, considering the condition she's now in. This situation would be a hell of a lot harder to deal with while pretending that everything is normal if there were other people around.

He says her name again as he gets closer. There's more concern in his voice now, but still, he gets no reaction. He continues towards her.

Finally he's standing right in front of her, much closer to her than their usual distance of a few feet away. He puts his hands squarely on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "_Linden_," he says, slightly louder and more firmly than before. She opens her eyes slowly, looking confused.

"Holder? What…?" her eyes dart around wildly, and he can see the desperate panic in them. _This is not going to be good, _he thinks grimly. His hands are still on her shoulders, and he looks down into her terrified eyes. It's strange to be so close to her – it has only happened a few times in all the times he's known her – and it's stranger still that she doesn't seem to be struggling to get away from him, as he might have expected her to. Linden has a thing about… personal space, physical contact… all of it, which he has known for a very long time. Right now the fact that she's just standing there, _not _struggling against him, not seeming to notice that he's squarely inside her personal space, is worrying him more than he would have if she had been trying to break free of his grasp.

He looks at her seriously, trying to make her focus on him. "Linden," he says again, and waits for her to focus on him. "Linden, do you hear me?"

She tries to keep her focus on him, but her thoughts are swirling so fast, it's hard to make sense of anything. She had been having trouble breathing a minute ago, but she seems to be doing better, at least with that, now that she's looking up at Holder. If she can just stay focused on him…

"Linden…?" He says her name again, getting a little worried now. He has never seen her this bad before. He has never seen her anywhere _near _this bad before, and they've been through some bad shit. He hopes she's gonna be able to come back from the breaking point fast, because this shit she's doing now, this was _not _going to help them avoid suspicion. Finally, her eyes seem to focus on his, and he sees her face clear slightly, as if she's seeing him there for the first time.

"You okay?" he asks her, still standing in front of her and holding onto her shoulders. He's afraid that if he lets go of her, she might fall to the ground.

She just nods quickly. A lie, of course. She's clearly _not _anywhere near okay.

"Let's go," Holder says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. He removes his hands from her shoulders and takes a step backwards, watching carefully to see if he's going to have to catch her. She stays where she's standing, propped up against the wall, as he determines that she's at least sturdy enough on her feet to stand. Next, he has to figure out if she's going to be able to walk on her own. "Linden, we gotta go," he tells her seriously. "_Now_. We have to go to the lake. They expect us to be there. If we _don't _go, it'll just raise suspicion."

He stops talking to let her digest what he has told her. He's really, really not crazy about the idea of going to the lake either, but he's already weighed their options and there's really no choice. It's true, what he said about it looking suspicious if they stay away. Hell, he's pretty sure that most of the cops from the station will be there once word gets out what happened. As much as it's gonna be uncomfortable as hell, they have to be there, there's just no other option. The problem, of course, is keeping Linden from freaking the fuck out.

"Linden," he says again, seriously, "Let's go." Slowly, she pushes herself away from the wall she'd been leaning on so heavily and walks past him slowly on the sidewalk to their car, parked at the curb. Her sluggish brain has analyzed the information available and come to the same conclusion as Holder: _they have no choice but to go to the lake. Doing anything else would look suspicious. _She gets in the passenger seat without a word, slumping down in the seat and pulling the door shut behind her. Holder jogs around to the driver's side and gets in, closing the door behind him quickly. He turns to face her, watching her stare out of the front window vacantly.

"Linden." His voice is more insistent than usual, because he isn't sure that she'll acknowledge him otherwise.

"I know," she whispered stubbornly, still staring out through the windshield.

"Linden, _look at me_," Holder says sternly. His eyes bore holes in the side of her head until finally, slowly, she turn, feeling the weight of his stare. "Are you gonna be okay? I mean… we have to keep our shit together here." They'd been taking turns telling each other that same thing lately, depending on who was _losing_ their shit on that particular day.

"I _know_," she tells him irritably. "I'm fine."

Holder lets out a short burst of choked laughter. "Linden, you're _not_ fucking fine." As a reward for this outburst, Linden glares daggers at him but says nothing. "What I _mean _is, if you were fine with all this, well, that would make you a fucking _psychopath_." She looks at him, her eyes still hard, but beginning to understand better what he's saying.

She closes her eyes and exhales loudly. He watches her sympathetically, knowing that there's no easy way to get through what they have to do. When he speaks again, his voice is gentler, but still deathly serious. "We just gotta show up, try not to think too hard about what we're seeing, and stay alert for anything we need to handle. Most importantly, we need to stay fucking calm, and say as little as possible."

"Piece of cake, right?" she replies sarcastically, looking back at him again out of the corner of her eyes, before turning to face him fully. The spark, the "Linden-ness" is back in her eyes, he notices with relief. He knows her inside out by now, or at least, better than anyone else in the world does, and the side of Linden that he sees most of the time – the "kick your ass first and ask questions later" side of her – that was what he's seeing once again, _finally_. He doesn't know how long it's going to last, given what they're about to do, but at least it's there now.

"If you say so, boss," he tells her with a nod of his head. And with that, the pair of them take off for the lake, and the shitstorm that that they already know awaits them there.


	62. Noise

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 5

**Author's Note: We're cruising quickly toward the end of this story, which makes me sad, but there's so much I love about the last few episodes, that I'm excited at the same time. I hope you enjoy this very angsty, angry chapter. **

"We're fucked." It's the only conclusion that Holder has been able to come to. They didn't get the warrant for Col. Raine's car, and she's has been uncooperative, to put it mildly. Hostile would also be an understatement.

_That's all he can say?_ _We're fucked? _Linden stares at him in disbelief. _He's giving up? Just like that?_

"Chamberlain is a St. George alum and a bigtime booster. Never gonna get that warrant."

"We're going to a different judge then," Linden insists stubbornly.

"You do that and both our careers are over." Holder can't believe she can't see reason. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time.

"We don't do that and we can't help Kyle." Linden can't believe he can't see reason. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time.

_Is she serious? She wants to end her own career over one case? Well fuck that, because I don't! _"Is he the only one you care about?"

They stare at each other with hostility, each completely unable to comprehend how the other can possibly not see their side.

"You see this fucking shitstorm we're right in the middle of, right?" Holder demands.

Linden looks at him as though she's disgusted with him, because she is. She'd never pegged him as a guy who would give up. It was one of the things she liked about him, that he was as dedicated as she was, at least most of the time. "Caroline's got you by the balls," she tells him. _It's pathetic_, she thinks.

He looks back at her, his expression challenging her. _How can she say that, after all the times I've proven it to her? _He tries to make her see it in his eyes as well as his words. "It's you and me, Linden. We're on the same team, remember?"

She looks at him coldly. "Are we?" _I thought we were. But I don't know anymore, _she thinks.

They just stare at each other. The look on his face says that he wonders if he knows her anymore. Even worse, he wonders if he _ever _really knew her at all. Maybe he was wrong about her all this time. She still looks disgusted with him.

Just then, at the moment when a distraction is most needed to diffuse the air between them before they say anything else that they'll regret, there's a knock on the door. Col. Raine has come to voluntarily turn over her car for their inspection. For the time being, both Linden and Holder are able to de-escalate their growing hostility towards each other as they focus their energy back on the case, instead of on hurting each other. _For now._

…

Linden and Holder get out of the car, Linden from the driver's seat, locking the door and walking away. Holder follows her at a more leisurely pace. Col. Raine gave her alibi as her dance instructor. They don't like him, but he has given her a solid alibi.

"Between Two Buck Chuck's alibi and the security cameras at the Four Seasons, there's no way Margaret's the shooter. We're spinning our wheels, Linden." He knows it isn't what she'll want to hear, but it's the truth. He braces for the impact of her anger, which he fully expects to be directed at him.

She's already halfway across the parking lot ahead of him, but calls over her shoulder. "Just because she didn't pull the trigger doesn't mean she didn't give the order. She's got 250 toy soldiers at her disposal and all of them can't wait to kill." In her mind, there's no way Col. Raine's not guilty of _something_. It's so very obvious to her that she's lying to them. She stops and turns toward Holder, who's still walking towards her. "We've gotta get in there. Kyle's in trouble."

Holder's whole relaxed demeanor is part of what's pissing her off so much right now. It doesn't help when he tells her, "You're paranoid. This ain't 'Bombs Over Baghdad.'"

"Margaret could still try to kill him. She killed a child before, she'll do whatever it takes to protect herself." Linden is insistent that Kyle is in danger, that Margaret Raine has it in for him.

Holder just doesn't buy it, and he doesn't understand Linden's obsession with this. "If she wanted to kill him, he'd already be dead," he tells her matter-of-factly.

Linden looks away in frustration. Holder's standing right in front of her, their height difference glaringly obvious when he's this close. She takes half a step back, beyond frustrated with this man who she once understood so well. Or thought she did, anyway.

"How the fuck you know Kyle's so innocent? Maybe he's the one taking her orders. You ever consider that?" Holder had recently eased up on the idea that Kyle was the shooter, but that didn't mean it couldn't still be true.

"No, he's telling me the truth. I trust him. I can see it in his eyes. _He's _not the one lying to me." The remark cuts through the air between them, exactly as she meant it to. She's been waiting to say this for a while, and she can't keep it to herself anymore. She's glaring daggers at him, but that's only the beginning.

Holder is calm, _too calm_, when he asks her, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I know what you said at the NA meeting." She tells him, her voice eerily calm. There, she said it. He's stunned, silent. _Now let's see what he has to say for himself, _she thinks. "You told everyone what we did."

They both pause, staring at each other. It's just a matter of who's going to break first.

Holder speaks first, as usual, his tone low and icy. "What _we _did?" he asks, then pauses to let his words sink in. "I didn't do anything. You're the one who did it. You're the one who couldn't keep your shit together. I was just trying to help you."

Whatever Holder's intention was, those words cut Linden somewhere deep inside, somewhere where she knows they won't come back from. _This is it_, she thinks. _This is where we break, where we fracture, where our friendship dies. _She's been waiting for it for a while now, knowing that it was inevitable. Because no matter what she does, good doesn't survive in her life. _People_ don't last in her life. Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually, everyone leaves. It's one of the only things she knows for sure. It's all her fault, of course. It's _always _her fault.

She tries to cover the immeasurable pain that now floods her system with pure hostility. "Yeah well, thanks for all the help," she tells him bitterly, desperately. She has to push him away, _has to_, because the pain is too much. The pain of knowing that all that time that she trusted him, despite her best efforts, all that time she was wrong about him. _I should have known_,_ it's always the same. Why did I think this time would be different? That __**he **__would be different? _

It just hurts too much.

"I told you to walk away… you wanted to stay," she tells him. Then, with more bitterness than she would ever have thought she could muster towards him, she adds, "I would've been a lot better off on my own." She knows that she's hurting him, but what surprises her is that she's hurting herself just as much, if not possibly more.

Her words hit Holder hard, as she had intended them to. He knows that he started it, that he lashed out at her first and that this is her, raising her defenses against him. He _knows _this, because he knows her. Or at least… he thought he knew her. Are they really doing this? Are they really turning on each other? It's as though he's watching a freight train speeding towards a building collapsed on the train tracks but is powerless to stop it. It's going to end badly, he knows, but there's nothing he can do now.

They can hear radio chatter in the background around them. Holder looks away for a second, then back at her, like he already regrets what he said.

"Look, I'm sorry, Linden. I fucked up, okay? I just felt like… the whole world was coming crashing down on me and I was about to explode." It's an inadequate excuse, and he knows it.

But now she's angry, and so wounded by his words, that his words aren't penetrating her newly formed defenses. She's not hearing him, not really. She won't _let _herself hear him. Now all she wants to do is hurt him the way he hurt her. "Yeah, well, I was wrong about you. _You're just a fucking junkie like the rest of them._"

He recoils, leaning back and breathing in, as if recovering from a punch.

She knows she's making it worse, but she's powerless to stop it, to stop the words from exploding out of her mouth. They know each other's weaknesses. That one punch was not enough for her. She needs to hit the other spot where she knows that it will hurt.

"Some kind of father you're gonna be." _There_, she thinks, _a doubly whammy_.

Holder takes it in stride. _Oh, this is the game we're playing? _He asks her silently. _Alright, I can play this fucking game with you._ He knows Linden, knows _exactly_ how to get to her. Usually he uses this knowledge to help her. But not this time. "How's Jack doing, by the way? Weren't you supposed to take him to the airport right now?" _Boom! _He waits for her reaction, knows that her guilt over Jack is one of the things that will make her feel the worst.

Linden looks down at her watch and swears under her breath. "Shit!"

Holder can't resist rubbing it in just a little more, though, since they're working so hard at being assholes to each other. "Oh, snap, classic Linden, not giving a shit about anyone who's still alive, not even your own son."

She's looking up at him in shock now, too stunned to speak. _Those _words get through to her. She can't stop them, because she knows they're true.

"_I'm_ the one who's fucked up?" he continues, "The only people _you_ care about are _dead_."

He leans forward slightly, into her face, for emphasis, as he says the word, "dead." She walks away then, finally, breathing heavily, back across the street to her car. It's over, all of it. _Them._

"Tell Little Man I said 'adios,'" Holder calls after her.

"Fuck you!" she yells at him as she goes. There's nothing else left that she can hurl at him now except profanities, but she is so, _so _hurt by and angry at this man, that she'll throw anything at him that she can.

"Yeah, _fuck you too_!" Holder yells back at her across the street.

Linden's so angry she can barely see. Holder was supposed to be her only friend in the world, and now he seems to be the one who has hurt her more than anyone else in the world. And all because _she let him_. She's angry with him, but even more than that, she's angry with herself. She has only herself to blame, and as usual, she turns all of her frustration inward.

_I should have remembered_, she berates herself as she drives away, _everyone leaves._

…

Holder's standing in the church, the one where the nuns sing through the wall. The one where the music used to be beautiful, back when he was getting clean. Lately when he has gone there, it has just been noise, like he'd told Linden not too long ago. He's kept trying, though, unable to accept that the music is gone for good. It has to be something in his head that's stopping him from hearing it.

Today, though, he desperately _needs_ to hear the music. He _needs _to feel like there's some chance that his life isn't fucked, because it really feels like that's what's happening. He'd worked so hard to get clean, so hard to do his job, to be the best cop he could be. He'd fucked up, sure, but he isn't a bad guy… or is he? Is he the fucked up asshole that Linden saw just now when she looked at him? She'd seen that guy because that was the guy he had acted like to her.

For almost as long as he'd known her, she had been the only one who _hadn't _seen the screw up, the junkie, the tweak-head, and now… now _she_ saw that guy too. Everyone in the world couldn't be _wrong_, could they? He didn't _want _to be that guy, the one who disappointed everyone, who could do nothing but fuck up his own life and the lives of others… but if he wasn't that guy, then why was that all that anyone could see when they looked at him? He had let her down, he had let himself down… and he'd been a goddamn fucking asshole about it, to make it even better.

He'd hurt her intentionally, as much as he could, because… _why_? What the fuck was he hoping to accomplish? Because all he _had_ accomplished was alienating Linden, and hurting her. No, not just hurting her. It was way past that point. He'd gone too far, even for his asshole self, and he knew it. He'd seen the look in her eyes. She might never forgive him. That wasn't what he wanted. _None of this shit was what he'd wanted_. All he'd ever tried to do was to help her. So then how did he manage to keep fucking it up so thoroughly, so completely? It seemed like the only thing he was good at these days was fucking up his own life… and now he'd… what? Fucked up Linden's life as a bonus?

He stands in the church, looking up to the ceiling, many stories above him, with the light filtering through the stained glass. He listens to the nuns singing, trying to hear the music, the beauty of it, but there's too much ugliness in his head, too much crap that's there because of him. He's lost and it's his own fault. He has let it all happen, and he deserves all the pain he's in now, he tells himself. So he stands up and walks toward the wall that the nuns stand behind as they sing, only their silhouettes visible through tiny holes. He's desperate, desperate to understand. He doesn't even know _what_ he's trying to understand, all he knows it that he's lost.

"Where is he?" he demands over and over. He can't believe that God really means for any of this. He understands suffering, he knows that God works in mysterious ways, but this… where is He now? How can Holder possibly handle this when he feels that everyone, God included, has abandoned him? The nuns stop singing when Holder gets close, screaming, and they file out without a word. He starts crying as he repeats, over and over, "Where is he?"

Where does he go now? He leans his forehead against the wall, willing it all to stop. He needs someone, something, to hold onto. It's just all too much. He doesn't know how long he stands there, until the dull ache in his soul fades enough for him to move tiredly, mechanically, resignedly. He leaves the church and walks, without any real destination. Eventually he ends up at the station. When it comes down to it, there's still so much work to be done, and he's going to have to face it. The Stansbury case, and the fucked up mess with Skinner, too. Will he go down for that mess? He doesn't know. He almost doesn't care anymore, his exhaustion is so overpowering.

He walks down the hall, thankful to reach the bathroom without anyone stopping him, where he splashes cold water on his face.

The voice he hears behind him, the face he sees in the mirror when he looks up from the sink, well, it's one of the ones he least wants to see. He has no more emotion left to be angry, or annoyed, or frustrated, or intimidated by Reddick. He feels nothing as Reddick asks, almost begs, him to tell him the truth about what happened that night, with Skinner. Holder just stares at him. Back out in the hall, Reddick pats him on the back and tells him to call him.

Holder doesn't know _how_ any of this will ever be alright, but he begs silently for help… because all he knows is that he's lost.


	63. Protect Yourself

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 6

Linden doesn't know how she ends up at the station, really. She'd dropped Jack off at the airport, waited until she knew for sure that his plane had taken off even, to be sure that he'd made it. _It's a wonder that her son had made it anywhere in this world, really, with her as a mother_, she thinks sadly. Now she's in her car outside the station, just sitting there. There's still work to be done, after all. Besides, what the hell else does she have to do? The answer is simple.

She has nothing. No one.

She closes her eyes and inhales slowly, trying to calm herself down. It seems impossible, and yet also much too easy. Inside her, she simultaneously feels a violent storm and an absolute emptiness. It shouldn't even be possible to feel both of these things at once… and yet, she does. When Jack had left for Chicago before… well, she hadn't been alone. But now… she has more than burned that bridge. One more thing that she has done to fuck up her own life. She had _thought _that she'd been alone for most of her life, but looking back, at least she'd had Jack for the past decade and a half or so. For the first time since before Jack was born, she is really and truly alone. She tries to focus on clearing her mind, which isn't as hard as it used to be. She's gotten better and better at making herself numb to the pain.

She inhales deeply again, then exhales that breath and opens her eyes. She needs to do something. The sitting here, the thinking, doing nothing… that's what will kill her. She has to do _something_. Work had always been her savior, the one thing that brought her back from the edge. The only thing, until she had met… _don't even think it_, she tells herself angrily._ Focus on work._

That's her cue to move, and she jerks the door open, thankful that there's no car parked on the left side of hers, because she surely would have smashed her door into any car that might have been there with the force with which she opens hers. She slams the door just as hard again after her, ignoring the looks from a few people who happen to be walking through the parking lot at that moment. She has never cared what anyone else thought, and she certainly isn't about to start now.

_Get ahold of yourself_, she orders herself as she walks across the wet concrete. She knows that she's wound up tight – what else is new? – and she struggles to focus on what she needs to do for the case. Her mind automatically starts sifting through the details of the Stansbury case as she walks, and by the time she reaches the door of the station, her stress is almost back at a management level. She's lost in thought as she weaves her way through the halls that are filled with indistinct chatter from the officers around her, but she comes to an abrupt stop as she rounds the last corner before reaching her office. _Their _office.

At the far end of the long hall she sees Holder standing with Reddick. Holder isn't saying anything, but Reddick is leaning in close, saying something to him. She feels as though the pit of her stomach has suddenly dropped. _Is he confessing? What did he tell Reddick? That asshole Reddick has always had it in for me, and he'd definitely love to hear the story of what Sarah Linden did to Lt. Skinner._

Suddenly, her heart is beating so fast that she can't hear anything else, as if it had moved to her ears and is blocking out all other sound. She watches, with the now familiar feeling of everything moving in slow motion around her taking hold. As if it's some kind of nightmare, Reddick claps Holder on the back good-naturedly, then walks away, leaving Holder standing there. Neither of the men walk in her direction, which is lucky because Linden's feet are glued to the spot where she stands.

Linden watches as Holder stands there for a long few seconds, seeming to stare at nothing before he turns and disappears around the corner at the end of the hall. Only then can Linden hear the sounds around her again as they slowly fade back in. She lets out the breath that she hadn't realized that she'd been holding and blinks in disbelief. They're already broken, damaged beyond repair, but it now appears that Holder has… that he has done the unthinkable.

_He betrayed me, _was all her brain could repeat, over and over. Even in their current state, she'd never imagined that he would have stooped so low.

Suddenly the air around her is choking her, and she has to get out of there. She doesn't know why, only that if she doesn't get out of the station immediately, she's going to pass out. As she staggers back the way she had come as fast as she can, almost knocking over several confused looking unis, more than one person notices her strange behavior. A few of them even try to call out to her, to ask her if she's alright. She doesn't hear any of them, only the voice in her head that's screaming at her to run, to move, to get out of there before she chokes on the air that's so full of betrayal.

It's not the first time that Linden's fellow officers have watched her acting strangely, especially lately. They know that she's under a tremendous amount of stress, and that she doesn't handle it particularly well. They also know better than to try to get in her way when she's after something, and since she's moving with determination, they don't dare try to stop her.

She pushes through the doors of the station as fast as she can, making it across the half empty parking lot to the fence that's just past where her car is parked. Her fingers grab the holes in the chain linked wire, and she leans her head forward against it, suddenly feeling like she's going to be sick. She gasps for breath several times before the breaths turn to choked coughs, and then suddenly her stomach is heaving. Without any further warning, she throws up what little was in her system, which consists mainly of coffee. She doesn't remember eating anything else in… how long has it been? She has no idea anymore. _That was always something that only Holder kept track of, not me._ The thought is enough to start another round of heaving, though there's nothing left to come up this time.

It's at least five minutes before she manages to steady herself enough to stand up and let go of the fence. She turns around and scans the parking lot, which is uncharacteristically empty for this time of night. Her first instinct is to feel relief that there's no one around to see her in her current state. Yet, at the same time, the fact that there's no one there is like a punch in the gut. _You've always been alone_, the voice in her head reminds her with an icy calm, _Why does it suddenly surprise you? _Bile rises in her throat yet again, and she pushes it back down quickly. There's nothing left in her – nothing left in her stomach to throw up, and nothing left in her emotionally, either. She needs to focus on work and yet… at that exact second, what she needs is to drive. To get away. To be somewhere else, anywhere else. Somehow, she makes it the few feet to her car.

…

She had driven around for half the night. If anyone had asked, she couldn't have told them where she'd actually gone, all she knows is that somewhere around 3:00 am she had ended up back at her house and had laid down in bed for what turned out to be a fitful sleep.

The nightmares begin pretty much as soon as she closes her eyes. She doesn't remember most of them when she wakes up at dawn, only that she'd woken up in a cold sweat more times that night than possibly any other night of her life. She doesn't want to go back to sleep after any of them, but she can't bring herself to get out of bed, and her body is so tired that somehow, despite her best efforts to stay awake, she just keeps dozing off again and again.

The last nightmare is the worst, at least as far as she can remember. She's dressed to go for a run, and she's been moving fast along a trail in the woods, except she's running as though she's running for her life, running to escape, and not as someone who's just out for a run. She runs until she has to stop to catch her breath. She comes to a stop by a small beach, where she sees something sticking out of the sand. As she walks closer, she sees that it's a red pinwheel, like the one that Jenna Geddes – her _mother _– had told her that she'd liked so much at a parade long ago, when she was four years old.

It makes her sick, the fact that the words of this woman, this _stranger_, are so obviously still in her mind, that someone she had always been so determined to have absolutely nothing to do with is having such an effect on her. She hates that she cares whatsoever. She works so hard _not_ to care. She always had. It's the only way she knows how to protect herself.

_Protect yourself from what? _she occasionally wonders. And then something happens, someone else gets just a little too close to her and she ends up hurt, and then she remembers what she was protecting herself from. It's happening again now. But why? Jenna Geddes is a stranger. She has only ever spoken to her twice that she can even remember. She hasn't let her in… has she? Linden hates that the woman's words are stuck in her head.

In her dream, Linden kneels down beside the pinwheel and pushes the sand back to reveal that the pinwheel is being held in the sand by… _her. _Sarah Linden, herself_. _She's buried in the sand, looking rather dead. But… she _knows _that she isn't dead! As she crouches there, confused, in front of her dead self, however, someone holds a gun to her head, cocking in just beside her ear. That's when she knows. In that split second, she just knows that it's all over. She can't decide if she's terrified, or relieved.

This is it. It's over.

She sits up bolt straight in bed at the same second that she hears the gunshot, and it takes her several seconds to understand that her dream had been just that, a dream. It had seemed so real. It's hard to catch her breath, and she struggles to calm down, falling back down against the pillows as her eyes fell closed again.

Linden wakes up again in a panic. She doesn't know how much time has passed, but the dawn has given way to the muted light of an overcast Seattle day. It doesn't matter what time it is, not really. She only knows that she has to find that second shell casing. She finally finds the strength to push herself out of her bed and staggers across the room and down the stairs to the first floor. She heads for the dining room table like a woman possessed, and once there, she begins frantically moving everything on the table. She looks under everything, leaving the table an even bigger mess than it had been when she started, if that's possible, and when she doesn't find it, she moves to the floor.

_It has to be here somewhere_, her mind screams. And yet, it isn't there. Just as her desperation reaches a fever pitch, her cell phone rings. She doesn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, and she considers ignoring it except for the fact that the ringing sound is grating on her every nerve. When she looks at the caller ID, however, she's glad that she did, because it's possibly the one call that she doesn't want to ignore right now.

…

Holder knows a lot of things about himself. He knows that he's acting really fucking guilty right now, despite his best efforts to stay calm. He knows that Reddick is on to him now too. Ever since he cornered him in that goddamn bathroom, told him to come clean before he went to the Deputy Commissioner's office the next day… he knows that it's unraveling fast. He just wishes he knew what to _do _about it. Because despite what Reddick seems to think, there is no way in hell that he's going to rat out Linden. Never mind that at the moment he isn't sure they'll be able to be in the same room together again any time soon, and that he's afraid that their friendship is over.

Still, he reminds himself that his actions aren't a reflection of her, they're a reflection of him. No, he's not perfect. Yes, she's fucked up – he is, too. He's pissed as hell at her for so many things, but mostly he's pissed at himself. There are so many things along the way that he could have done differently, so many ways that he could _not _have ended up here, in this fucked up place that they can't go back from. The NA meeting where he spilled their secret? That may be why Linden is mad at him, and why they fought such a nasty fight, but that isn't all of it. If he was a better friend – a better _man _– they wouldn't be here. He'll share some of the blame with her, but really, when it comes down to it, he holds most of it back for himself. Regret is all that he has left of what used to be the most important friendship he's ever had, and he has only – okay, _mostly –_ himself to blame.

So he leaves the station after his run in with Reddick and he just drives through the city streets, not even aware of his destination until he arrives there. He parks the car just off the road and walks slowly the rest of the way toward the short drop off over the water, the one where he'd finally, _finally_, found Linden after she'd been kidnapped by Pastor Mike. He stands at the edge and looks out at the water, the memories of that day echoing in his mind.

_Get out of the way, Sarah! _he hears himself shout in his mind.

_Who's in the way now?_ he wonders. _Is it Linden? Is it him? Who is in their way? Are they broken for good this time? _

He can't help but remember the relief he'd felt that day, when Pastor Mike had finally given up and been in custody, when Linden had collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath as she struggled with what had happened to her. He'd sat beside her, he'd just been there with her. Now he let the emotions wash over him once again, wishing that it could just be that simple. He'd been so afraid that he'd lost her that day. And now, in a totally different way, he's afraid that he haslost her again. He sinks to the ground as he lets out a suddenly choked breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

He sits there on his knees, listening to the sounds around him. He hears the sound of nature – the water, a few birds in the distance – mixed with traffic up on the bridge. _Biltmore Pier_. He opens his eyes slowly and looks up at the wide expanse that spans the water, thinks back to the night that someone had called Linden to tell her to come up there because _he _had been pacing the median in some kind of mania. And she'd come, talked him down, hadn't even really demanded any answers. She'd just been there with him.

As fucked up as they had both always been, that had seemed to be their specialty. Just being there for each other.

Sighing heavily, he forces himself to his feet. He wants answers, but there are none. He wants to fix it, but he doesn't know how.

He hopes that he still can.

Suddenly remembering that he's due to meet Caroline for her doctor's appointment very soon, he turns back and walks slowly to the car. The weight on his chest is heavy as he looks back at this place one more time.

_It can't end like this_, he tells himself. _It just can't._


	64. Facing the Truth

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 6

For once on this case, something has gone right, and Linden's driving through the gray, cloudy day to St. George's, satisfied with the knowledge that they finally have a warrant to search the school, and not just a strong hunch that they're right. She doesn't know how it will go when she meets up with Holder there, but she supposes it can't get too much worse than it already is, especially when they're going to be busy with the search. She tells herself that the twinge of pain that she feels when she thinks about the ruins of what used to be their friendship doesn't matter. None of it matters. Now if only she could make herself believe it.

Still, as much as she tries to deny that she feels anything about any of it, Kyle's words still ring in her head. Somehow this teenage boy who barely knows her at all has seen right through her, and it has shaken her up considerably. She'd just been trying to soothe his fears about the other cadets – the ones he'd said had been trying to kill him – finding him at her house, which was almost completely secluded from the rest of the world. "No one is going to find you here, Kyle," she'd told him.

That's when he'd looked at her as if he could see straight through all of it – every wall she'd ever put up – and asked her "Is that why you're here? So no one will find you?" The shock she'd felt at hearing those words was undeniable. _Was _that why she chose to live out there, so far removed from society? _No, of course not._ That was silly. She'd moved out there because… it was peaceful. The pace of life was a little slower. She'd needed to get some distance between herself and her 24/7 job. The land was beautiful there.

But it was bullshit, all of it, and she knew it. The part that scared her was that Kyle was right. She had moved out there so that no one would find her – or so that it'd been a lot harder, anyway. It was easier to accept being alone when there weren't people all around everywhere. When she was surrounded by people and yet still alone, the difference was more glaring. Out there, where she lived, being alone was just easier.

_I'm not hiding_, she told herself furiously.

_Right, of course you're not,_ her inner voice answered sarcastically. _The same way you're delighted to be alone._

_I don't need them, _she replied indignantly, referring to people in general. She'd always prided herself on not needing anyone. It made things easier, since there had never been anyone who was there for her anyway. That is, except…

Again, she pushed his name from her mind. She was so _very _angry with him. Try as she might, however, she didn't seem to be able to convince herself that she wasn't hurt by his betrayal.

_That's funny, _her inner voice replied sarcastically, _considering how you treated him. If anyone should be angry at anyone, __**he**__ should be angry with __**you**__._

She pushed the voice from her mind, refusing to acknowledge that it was right.

No, if she didn't need anyone, she saved herself the pain of needing someone who wasn't there. Because what she had learned from painful experience was that even if someone was there for her once or twice, no matter what they may promise, it never lasted.

_In the end, everyone leaves_, she thought sadly. Wasn't that enough of a reason to try to go where no one would find her? To save herself the pain? Sighing sadly, she forced her thoughts back to the case and focused on the road.

…

Linden's sitting at the bottom of the stairs outside the main building at St. George's. The view is breathtakingly beautiful there, everything lush and green, in stark contrast to the constant numbness that she feels. For once the rain has stopped and she sits, her arms resting loosely on her knees, leaning forward slightly, looking at the ground. So much of their standoff with Margaret Raine had hit home with her, and it's hard to process it all. It's hard to understand the choices that the other woman has made, and yet at the same time it's painfully easy. Just when Linden thinks nothing can push her farther emotionally, something does. She's to the point where she doesn't know how much more she can take before she snaps the way Margaret had, and it scares her.

Holder walks slowly out of the building and sees Linden at the bottom of the steps. He's angry with her, and yet… because he knows her so well, he know that the scene they've just witnessed with Col. Raine has pushed her past her breaking point. In spite of everything, he can't quite give up his role as the one who pulls her back from the edge, no matter how broken it feels like they are. It's fucked up, he knows, but he feels badly that things have gone the way they have with them, and despite everything he wants to help her. _It probably makes me a goddamn idiot,_ he thinks,_ but so be it._

He stops at the top of the stairs for a second, watching her sit frozen in place, then begins walking down the steps slowly towards her.

"Hey, Linden."

_His voice isn't his own_, she thinks. _He sounds different_. _Or maybe it's me that's different. Or maybe it's both of us. Because we're broken._ She doesn't turn around.

Holder wonders why she doesn't answer. He wonders if it's because she's stuck inside her own head, or if it's because she's just that angry with him, or if there's something else entirely. With Linden, there's an equal chance that it's any of those things.

Slowly, he keeps walking down the steps behind her. "Linden."

She knows that she should at least answer him. Her brain is attempting to give the order, but there's mutiny somewhere between her brain and her vocal cords, and the order isn't carried out. Even _she_ doesn't quite know why she isn't answering him. _Just leave me alone_,_ Holder_, she thinks. _All I do is break things. Don't you see that yet? Just go. _But of course, she has said all this in her head, so he can't hear her. All he knows is that she still hasn't moved.

"Let's go pick up Kyle," Holder tells her, and waits for her reaction. She's always been protective of Kyle, and he's not entirely sure how she's going to take the idea of arresting him.

"She confessed," Linden says simply, still staring straight ahead.

"So? She lied." Holder can't believe his ears. _Linden wouldn't seriously suggest that they ignore the facts of the case just because she has a connection with Kyle! Would she?_ She still hasn't so much as turned her head towards him.

Linden's voice is frighteningly calm, Holder thinks. He's accustomed to a lot of things from her, but calm is _not _one of them. He actually finds it more frightening than when she's upset. "I'm arresting her for the murder of Philip, Linda, Phoebe and Nadine Stansbury," she tells him matter-of-factly.

He looks at her in disbelief. "No, you're _not._" A challenge has been issued. There's no way he's going to let her do this, no matter what her reasons are. It doesn't matter that Margaret confessed, they all know that she didn't do it.

Linden turns around and looks at Holder then. There's something in her eyes that Holder's not used to seeing there. Her expression is cold, icy even, in a way that it never has been before. Not even when they'd first been working together and Linden obviously couldn't stand him. Not even when they'd fought.

"You're arresting her for those two kids that are lying dead in her office. That's it. She didn't kill the Stansburys." _Do I actually have to remind you of the facts in this case? _he asks her in his head._ Because that's what actually happened. She didn't kill the Stansburys and you know it._

Linden stands up quickly then, turning to face him as she stands. She looks at him almost threateningly. "Don't you touch him."

Holder just stands and looks at her, taken aback. _What is __**wrong **__with her? This isn't the way the law works, and she knows it._ He shakes his head and scoffs, turning around slowly, starting to walk away. What Linden thinks doesn't matter, the facts speak for themselves. The fact is that Margaret Raine wasn't going to be arrested for something she hadn't done. It didn't matter how much Linden wanted Kyle to be innocent. He wasn't.

Without stopping to think about what she's doing, Linden reaches behind her and pulls out her gun, points it at Holder and cocks it. He knows the sound, of course, and he stops, turning around slowly in disbelief. He stares at her, words not coming to him. _This isn't really happening, right? _he thinks. _Linden wouldn't… _And yet there she is, standing in front of him with her gun trained on him. She's shaking slightly, he notices.

"_You _took that shell casing!" she cries accusingly. _It all makes sense now, _she tells herself frantically.

He just stares at her, still not comprehending what's happening. _Linden is pointing her fucking gun at me? Linden? After all I've fucking done for her? _So many emotions bubble to the surface at once, he can't sort through them all. Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. Disappointment. Shock. The one thing he doesn't feel is fear – maybe there's too many other feelings there for him to actually feel afraid. _She wouldn't…_

"What?" There's something about having a gun pointed at him, _by his partner_, that's making it hard for him to even comprehend her words, much less to follow her logic. Or maybe it's just the fact that there's no logic to what she's saying. Either way, Holder is completely lost. _Why the fuck would I do that? _his mind demands. _I only __**ever **__wanted to help you!_

Linden's voice is now dripping with accusation. "It was never missing, you _took _it. It was your insurance in case they ever found out. You'd have proof that I did it." _Why didn't I think of this before? _she wonders. _It makes perfect sense._

Holder keeps staring at her, the look on his face a mixture of so many things. He had wanted to believe that their friendship could be repaired somehow, even though it had felt pretty hopeless, but now he knows… there's nothing left between them. Maybe he'd just been seeing ghosts of their friendship, traces of a past that no longer exist, because he'd _wanted _to believe there was still a chance. After all, sometimes you see what you want to see. Apparently this was what Linden really thought of him.

"You and Reddick were talking. I _saw_ you." He's watching her break apart before his eyes. Despite the fact that she is the one setting the ashes of their friendship on fire once again, he aches with the knowledge that somehow everything he did for her was simply not enough.

She almost can't get the words out, but she has to say this part out loud. She _has to_. It's too real inside her head, too loud, taking up too much space and demanding to be let out. "I sh—I should… **I should have known you'd leave me too**."

Suddenly, all of the emotions swirling in his head are silent. It's as if they've disappeared in a puff of smoke. All of a sudden, all he feels is numb. There's nothing left of this friendship, obviously, nothing he can do for her if she's so determined to kill it, so determined that it was always going to end. He's exhausted from the tsunami that is Sarah Linden and the years of riding the waves of their friendship. Suddenly cast back on dry land, he has never felt so empty as at that moment. He can't summon a single emotion, and wonders if it shows on his face. He just keeps staring at her, in shock.

She points the gun at the ground and groans, suddenly unable to breathe properly. He turns without saying a word and walks up the stairs. At the top of the stairs he turns around and looks back at her. He's never claimed to be perfect, but he had tried with everything inside him to do the right thing, to be a good man, a good friend, a good person… and where had it gotten him? Right here. To the point where his partner and supposed best friend had pointed a gun at him because he refused to ignore the evidence and follow the law. Linden, who he'd thought he'd _known_, who had always been so passionate about making things right.

It was all a joke, a lie, he realized. Apparently she hadn't wanted to make things right after all. Not according to the law, and not with the only friend she had. That was how much she cared about that goddamn teenager that she'd known for five minutes, the one who'd killing his whole fucking family? She cared about _him _so much that she was willing to pull a _gun _on the only person who'd ever been on her side for more than five seconds? Or was that just how _little _she cared about her only friend? Or was it both? Well _fuck that_. In the end it didn't matter. All that mattered was that apparently he'd been wrong about her all along.

She was looking out into the field somewhere maybe, doubled over as if she was in pain. He just turned and walked away. There was nothing else he could do, after all. She just stood there, trying to catch her breath, knowing that she has done this, all of it. Knowing that the right thing to do would be to go after him, to at least try to apologize, to make some sort of attempt to salvage their friendship. But what was the use?

Once again, Sarah Linden has set it all on fire, but this time, she has managed to burn not only herself, but also the only person who had ever tried to save her. _I really do deserve this pain, _she thinks. _I really do deserve to be alone._

…

Linden had watched Kyle being pushed through the Stansbury house by a uni, taking him to a squad car that would take him away. She couldn't help but feel like she'd failed him. _That's ridiculous, _she told herself. _**He killed his family.**__ He didn't remember doing it for a long time, and he had had a hard, painful life, but that doesn't change anything. He did it. You couldn't do anything to change that. _She sighed, knowing that it was the truth, but having trouble accepting it nonetheless.

_Eventually, you have to face the truth._

The words echoed through her head. She sat in her car outside the Stansbury house, staring out at the lake ahead of her.

_Eventually, you have to face the truth. _

The unis who had come looking for Kyle had all left quite some time ago. She'd lost track of time, just sitting there staring ahead of her, too numb to think, to move. _What was the point of any of it?_ She closed her eyes, not moving the rest of her body, just sitting there, still, while the minutes ticked by. There was nothing left for her anywhere.

_Eventually, you have to face the truth._

That was when she knew what she had to do. Opening her eyes, her face as blank and empty as she felt inside, she started the car and pulled back out onto the road. As if on autopilot, she drove back into the city, past so many familiar landmarks, places that she had driven by all her life. She felt like she was seeing the city for the first time with different eyes, and yet at the same time, she was seeing it all the other times she'd seen it before, all at once. It was surreal. Maybe this was what happened when your way was suddenly, finally, clear to you. She'd certainly never felt such clarity before this.

Pulling into the parking lot at the station, she silently prayed that Holder wasn't there. He didn't need to be here for this. She'd put him through enough already. It would be better for him, she told herself, that he was finally free of her. Finally, he wouldn't have her ruining his life. Without warning, she felt an ache in her chest. She knew it was what was best for him, that he could finally be free of her, but no matter how she tried to numb herself to how she felt, the loss still stung. She'd never had this problem before. She'd always been able to convince herself that she didn't need anyone… until now. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her car, closing the door behind her.

Walking through the hallways of the station that she had walked so many times, she couldn't help but feel like she had never really belonged there at all. She'd just been pretending all this time. It was as though the emptiness inside her was now surrounding her like an ever expanding bubble, consuming everything while threatening to suffocate her. She forced herself to move forward, kept moving until she was standing in the doorway of Reddick's office.

How she loathed this man, though not really for the right reasons. He was a pompous jackass to her a lot of the time, yes. He was lazy and had a poor work ethic, sure. Those were the reasonable reasons to hate him, which she did. However, she also knew that he had figured out what had happened that night with Skinner, and she hated him for that too, though it didn't make any sense. _You're the one who did it! _she reminded herself. But she hated herself as well, it's just that it hadn't felt like enough.

She stood in the doorway of Reddick's office, leaning tiredly against the doorframe and staring hard at him until he looked up from his computer. He regarded her with interest, wondering what she was doing there. He detested her pretty much as much as she detested him, and there weren't many reasons why she'd voluntarily come to his office.

"Linden," he said dryly. "What do you need?"

She glanced down at the ground, then back up at him, still not speaking, but feeling like her thoughts were suddenly written all over her face.

Reddick studied her carefully for a minute. His gut instinct had been spot on with the Skinner investigation, and he was pretty sure that what Linden had come here to say should be said somewhere more private, more official, than the doorway. He pushed his chair back and stood up, walking slowly around his desk to the doorway where she stood, looking at her intently, wondering if his gut was right again this time.

He stopped in front of her, holding out his hand and gesturing towards the hall behind her. "Shall we?" he asked. She held her hard stare on him for another long minute before moving, then finally stepped back into the hall to let him by. The two of them set off down the hall in the direction of the interrogation rooms without another word.

One thought still echoed in her mind. _Eventually, you have to face the truth._


	65. Just Like Always

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **Season 4, episode 6

Reddick isn't often surprised by people, but today is certainly an exception. After everything that has happened since Lt. Skinner was killed, everything he has found out about Linden and Holder – _that _mess sure had been a surprise – the one thing he hadn't expected was for Linden to show up in his doorway, ready to confess. She has always been a fucking stubborn pain in his ass, and she has stuck to her story – that she had nothing to do with Skinner's death – as if her life had depended on it. Too bad she was so obviously lying.

And then all of a sudden… when she'd stood there in front of him, not a smart ass remark in sight, her face had almost done the confessing for her. He wonders what had brought about the sudden change of heart.

He sits down at his desk and picks up his phone. He has an important call to make before he talks to Linden. After his meeting with the Deputy Commissioner about the whole fiasco, there had been rumblings from the Mayor's office, and he'd been told to "keep in touch" with them about this case. He needs to let them know what has happened. He dials the main number for City Hall.

Ten minutes and several "let me transfer you to that extensions" later, the Mayor's assistant listens and repeats the message back to him, then thanks Reddick for the call and hangs up, saying that their office would be in touch soon. _Whatever that means_, he thinks sarcastically.

Reddick had excused himself after ushering her into the interrogation room, leaving Linden alone in this familiar setting. She'd been there numerous times over the years, but this time, of course, it's very different. She's never been on this side of the table before, and it doesn't feel good. Still, she'll be glad to get the whole thing off of her chest. To stop hiding.

The seconds tick by as Linden waits in the interrogation room. They stretch into minutes. It might as well be weeks or months. She doesn't bother to keep track of how long she's been there, all she knows is that time seems to drag on endlessly as she waits for Reddick to return. She drums her fingers against the table, glances up at the clock without actually noticing the time, taps her foot… anything to try to distract herself from thinking about what comes next.

_He probably went to call Holder_, she thinks, and closes her eyes involuntarily at the thought of her former partner. Her former _friend_. How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

_Easy, _the voice in her head pipes up, the one that's always so eager to remind her of her failures. _You fucked it all up, just like always. _She knows that it's true, that it's always been true. It feels like all she's good at is fucking everything up. After all, how else would she have ended up where she is right now?

His phone call finished, Reddick heads back to the interrogation room. He has no way to know for sure, but he'd put money on the fact that Linden's the one who off'ed Skinner, and that if Holder had _anything _to do with it, that it had been against his will. Holder's a good cop, but Linden always seemed to be dragging him down with her.

Reddick sits down at the table across from Linden. Without a word, he slides a pack of cigarettes to her and lights the one that she takes out. It's an uncharacteristically considerate gesture between the two, but all things considered, Reddick feels like he can afford to be nice. After all, he's ninety-nine percent sure he knows what's coming.

They sit in silence for a minute as he watches her, just sitting and smoking. Reddick has all the time in the world, and she has come to him, after all. Clearly, she has something to say. She's shaking a little, he notices as she holds the cigarette to her mouth.

Holder walks through the front doors of the station, not even sure why he's there. He's not sure he can even concentrate on work right now. He's still so goddamned angry with Linden… No, angry's not the right word, but he doesn't know what is. He isn't sure he's even going to be able to sit down, he's just so wound up, and it's pissing him off. He wants to pace, he wants to hit something, he wants to… _Ugh! _he thinks. He's so frustrated, he's not sure he won't take it out on the next person who looks at him wrong.

He's seriously considering going home, for everyone's sake, when he overhears a couple of the unis talking as they walk past him down the hall. Something about Linden being in interrogation room one with Reddick.

_WHAT?_

He doesn't stop to ask questions, doesn't stop to apologize when he almost knocks those same unis over as he lunges forward down the hall around them, suddenly needing to know what's going on. _What the hell had she done now? _He finds himself behind the two way mirror that looks into interrogation room one just as Linden starts speaking.

Linden lets out a shaky breath, and then begins. "I killed James Skinner," she tells Reddick flatly, looking him directly in the eye. She pauses then, as if preparing herself to go on. "I shot him twice, put him in the car, and drove it into the lake. Holder had nothing to do with it."

"_Dammit, Linden…" _Holder whispers aloud. There's no one else in the room with him, surprisingly. Maybe Reddick hadn't told anyone what he's doing. It doesn't matter, really, all that matters is that Linden has just confessed to all of it, even what little part Holder had played. He doesn't want to go to jail, but he doesn't want Linden to go to jail, either. He closes his eyes, shaking his head slightly and willing it all to go away. This whole nightmare… he needs it to just stop.

Reddick nods ever so slightly, looking down at the table between them and considering what he'd just been told. "Hmm," he muses aloud. He looks up at Linden and tells her, "I offered him a deal. With the baby coming, I figured he'd be the weak link. I knew you wouldn't be. Not you, Sarah." Reddick pauses then, his eyes not leaving Linden. "He told me to go fuck myself in the rear end."

Linden almost smiles at that, looking down. _Fuck_, she thinks at the same time. That's when the realization dawns on her. _He didn't betray me. He… Oh my god… I am the world's biggest fucking asshole. _She lifts her cigarette to her lips again and inhales, trying to hide the breakdown that she's having on the inside, trying to push away the flood of emotion that Reddick's statement has released inside her.

Holder's eyes open when he hears Reddick tell Linden about their conversation in the hallway, the one where Linden had assumed that he'd betrayed her. He watches her reaction carefully, sees how tightly she's trying to hold on to her emotions. Back at St. George's, when she'd accused him of making a deal with Reddick, he'd been too shocked by her accusation to defend himself. He'd never even tried to tell her what he'd actually said to Reddick, and she had assumed the worst. He'd _let _her.

Now, watching her learn the truth, he actually feels bad for her. Somehow he's fucked up enough to feel bad for _her, _the one who'd had so little faith in him, the one who'd betrayed him in the worst way possible way. But he can't help it, because he knows that Reddick's words and the realization that Holder _hadn't _betrayed her are just making her hate herself more than she already had. _How can I possibly feel badly for someone I'm so angry with?_ he wants to scream. None of it makes sense. Not one single bit.

She keeps smoking, exhaling shakily and staring at the wall, then suddenly she turns and looks Reddick directly in the eyes. "I'm waiving my rights. I don't want an attorney. Everything I've said is admissible in court. I'll sign anything you want." She stares at him evenly. "You can arrest me now."

Reddick stares back at her, then looks down at the table in front of him. Based on how he feels about Sarah Linden, he would have thought that he would have been enjoying this moment a lot more than he is. But now, sitting here listening to her confession, it just feels… wrong. If Skinner really had been the Pied Piper, the one who murdered all those girls… he doesn't like Linden at all, but he almost admires what she did, that she'd killed him. The woman has _balls_.

Linden quickly notices that Reddick hasn't said anything about her confession. It doesn't make sense. This is the kind of moment that the Carl Reddick she knows would have _lived _for. So why doesn't he have any smart ass remarks? Not even a smug look of satisfaction on his face… What's going on?

Suddenly, just as Reddick is trying to decide what to say next, the door opens. Reddick stands up as two other men enter, dressed in suits. "Deputy Commissioner…" he says to one of them.

The Deputy Commissioner looks at Linden. "Stay seated, Detective Linden." The other man stands behind him, against the wall. Yet another well-dressed man enters the room and steps to the side, and then finally, Mayor Richmond rolls into the room in his wheelchair. Linden watches the scene unfold before her, thoroughly confused.

Richmond speaks in the same breathy voice that Linden remembers from the many occasions when she questioned him during the Rosie Larsen case. The first case that she had worked with…

"Sarah… it's been a while." He brings his wheelchair to a stop across the table from her. "How's your son? Jack, right?"

Linden stares at him, confused. She doesn't think this could be any stranger if he was speaking Chinese or had grown a second head. _Seriously, what the hell is going on? s_he wants to scream. _Why does no one else look like there's anything strange about what's going on here?_

Richmond continues as if they're just friends catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. "Uh, he's in high school now, from what I recall."

Linden, ever intolerant of bullshit, can't take the fake pleasantries anymore, and she cuts him off. "What is this?"

Keeping his voice as even and calm as before, Mayor Richmond replies, "John tells me there's a rumor going around about a Lieutenant Skinner." Linden just stares at him, not sure where he's going with this, or why he's there. Is it some kind of sick trap? Because she has already confessed…

They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, then Richmond continues. "According to this rumor, he was the so-called Pied Piper serial murderer."

Linden replies robotically. "Yes, he killed those girls. It isn't a rumor, it's true. So I shot him. I killed him." Linden can't help but feel like Richmond doesn't quite grasp the situation. He must not, because he's acting so nonchalant about it.

"I think you've made a mistake, Detective." He puts a file down in front of her. "The coroner's official report," he tells her, though it's written across the front. Linden opens it, still unsure where he's going with this. "Lieutenant Skinner's official cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. It was ruled a suicide."

Linden looks up at him, shaking her head slightly. She's at a loss for words. This is just… _wrong._

Richmond's next words shock her even further. "I'm sorry for your loss. You had a personal relationship with Lt. Skinner, from what I understand. Add that to the stress of this last case, and I can understand how his suicide must have been quite a blow."

Though maybe she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, Linden responds angrily. After all, she has just confessed to killing Skinner. "He didn't kill himself and you know it." She shuts the file with a thud.

Richmond looks at her intently, wanting her to hear his next words loud and clear. "You put me in this chair. I would gladly lock you up for the rest of your _fucking_ days. But imagine the public response if a cop, a high-ranking detective, was the killer of young children. The damage would be irreparable."

"To whom? You?" Linden demands antagonistically.

"Joe Mills killed those girls," Richmond replies simply. _Typical politician_, Linden thinks. _He actually sounds like he believes it._

Linden's angry now, her sense of justice having returned now that she has accepted the reality of her fate. She has come to terms with not hiding what she did anymore. "Joe Mills didn't kill those girls! Skinner confessed."

"You have this on tape? What evidence to you have, detective?" Richmond asks curiously, already knowing the answer.

Linden decides to change her tactic. Slowly and clearly, she tells him, "I will go to the press."

Richmond shakes his head slightly at her. "You have a history of mental illness, Sarah." She stares at him, defeated. Then, before she can put up any more of an argument than she already has, Richmond says, "It was nice seeing you."

The conversation is over, and Linden is more than a little bit shell shocked. Richmond rolls out of the room, his aide taking the file from the table. The door closes behind the various men who had come into the room with Richmond as they follow him back out, and suddenly only Reddick remains in the room with Linden, just as if none of the rest of them had ever been there.

Reddick stands in the space that Richmond has just vacated, across the table from her, and looks down at her for several seconds before saying, "Always the one with the conscience." She just looks up at him blankly. "Sometimes that's not enough," he adds. He starts to leave, then he lays something metal on the table and slides it to her, before turning and walking out.

She takes the cold metal in her hand and remains sitting at the table, sliding the pack of cigarettes from one hand to the other, but then decides to leave them on the table as she slowly stands up and puts on her jacket, pulling her long ponytail out from under it.

She's lost in thought when suddenly she feels something, the strange sensation that someone's watching her. _Of course_. She'd almost forgotten about the two way mirror. Turning and looking into the glass, she sees her own reflection. However, somehow she knows that Holder is on the other side. She can't see him, and she can't explain it… she just _knows_. Her eyes sweep back and forth and she walks slowly up to the glass, as if she would be able to see him if only she could concentrate hard enough. She stops right in front of it, staring through it even though she can't actually _see_ through it. She knows he's there. She can just feel it.

For a second she contemplates saying something to him through the glass, trying to get his attention, asking him to come out and talk to her. She doesn't just _want_ to talk to him, she feels an actual physical ache to talk to him, even just to _see_ him, even though she knows that seeing him would just make it worse. She has never in her life felt more alone than she does at that moment, and he's the only person she has ever known who could make her feel like she isn't alone.

Except that that's now in the past. In true Sarah Linden style, she has destroyed that friendship for good, and she knows it. Now her life has come full circle and once again, she _is _alone. It hurts even worse now than it did before, she discovers.

There's no way he'd speak to her again, not ever, and there's absolutely no way that he doesn't hate her. Hell, she deserves it after the way she treated him. _Of course_ he hates her. She hates _herself_.

Besides, even if he doesn't hate her, she doesn't deserve to be forgiven. No, it's better this way. She's no good for him, never has been. She's been fooling herself all this time, thinking that their friendship worked because they're both broken. No, maybe _he_ is broken. _She, _on the other hand, is… beyond repair.

Holder stands on the other side of the window, close to the glass. He watches her there, staring at him without seeing him. It's obvious that she somehow knows that he's there. He'd swear that she could see him, even though he knows for sure that you can't see through that glass from the other side. Still, after everything they've been through together, he believes that in a way, she _can _see him. It's that connection they've had for a long time. It should be broken now, after everything… so why does he still feel it? He wishes that he didn't, because maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

He stands there frozen to the spot in front of the glass, once again feeling assaulted by his emotions and yet empty at the same time. _How can you feel so angry with someone that you want to hate them for what they've done, and yet at the same time feel like losing them is ripping your insides out? How can you feel like you've already lost someone who's standing right there in front of you? _

He wants to go into the interrogation room and shake her until she stops acting like this, acting like…

_Linden_. No, he realizes that she's acting _exactly _like herself. He has watched her destroy so many things, so many relationships, so many parts of her own life. Why did he expect any different? And yes, they've had their share of nasty arguments before, but where they are now… he just doesn't see a way back, as much as he hates to believe it. No, he has always known her to destroy things, even almost understood that part of her. He just really never expected their friendship to be one of those things.

_I never really knew her, I guess_, he thinks. The thought makes him feel like questioning everything else in his life, as well.

_That's not true, and you know it,_ the voice in his head tells him. _You're the only one who __**has ever **__known her._

_Yeah, _he tells the voice cynically. _A lot of good __**that **__did me._

No, he thinks, he did know her once, but that just makes it worse. Because he _had _known her, but in the end it didn't matter. It didn't change anything. In the end, no matter what he had tried to do, she was still throwing it all away, and now he has no choice but to watch her go. _Why the hell is she so determined to be alone? _he wonders. In theory, he knows why. She's protecting herself. But…

_I just thought… _he sighs inwardly, his eyes still locked on her, _I just thought that we… that we were friends. I just wanted to be the one to prove her wrong. To prove that not everyone leaves._

As he watches her turn and walk away, his mind is screaming for him to do something, _anything_, but his body is frozen in place. The rational part of him knows that if Sarah Linden wants to walk away, then Sarah Linden's going to walk away. And yet, even if it won't help, he wants to scream at her and make her understand how betrayed he feels by her, even though he's passed the point of being able to explain it in words. Should he really even _have_ to explain it? She pointed a fucking _gun _at him, for God's sake! How exactly did she _expect _him to take that?

At the same time that he wants to scream at her, he also wants to grab onto her, to shake sense into her, to stop her from doing this, from throwing away their friendship, even though he knows deep down that it's too late. He knows that she's already made up her mind. _Hell, apparently she'd decided long ago that I was going to betray her, so she decided to betray me first. That's just_ _fucked up_.

His face is expressionless as he watches her leave the room, her badge left on the table. _So that's it_, he thinks to himself. _This is how it ends. _He knows that he needs to make himself move from the spot where he's standing. And yet…

It's as though by leaving the spot where he last saw Linden, he'll break his last tie with her, and even after all the shit she's pulled, even after she pulled a _gun _on him, he can't quite bring himself to walk away. Just… not yet. _What the hell are you waiting for? _he demands of himself. He just wishes he knew. His head falls down toward his chest and his eyes close in frustration, but still he stands there, trying to get control of his emotions.

He doesn't leave room for a long time, the ghost of Linden lingering on the other side of the glass long after the real life woman is long gone. He sighs heavily and reminds himself to breathe, reminds himself that like so many other things he's been through, it _will_ get easier. Finally he decides that he's ready to turn around and leave the room, too. The last thing he does before he turns out the light and walks out the door is to glance back at Linden's SPD badge, still sitting on the table where she left it. He reminds himself that he's going to stop feeling like this – angry. Confused. Empty. He just wishes that he knew when.

_Good luck_, _Linden, _he thinks numbly to himself. _I hope you find peace. _He hopes that he can, too.

_A/N: As all of your lovely people know, this is really, really close to the end of the last episode of season four. If you don't know already, in 2014 I wrote another fic called "Running" that picks up pretty much right where this chapter ends. Overall I was really happy with that story, and I can't imagine trying to completely re-write that time period a completely different way… so I decided to weave my two stories together. If you've read Running, I have to tell you that I've gone back and __**heavily**__ revised it. I like to think I've made major improvements, so I hope you'll read it again. It was my first ever fanfic, and I'm happy to say that I feel like I've improved a lot since then. SO, long story short, the next chapter of this story is actually chapter 1 of Running. If you click on my profile, you should find it easily. If not, let me know. I've removed the old chapters, and I'll be posting the new ones as quickly as I can. They're all done, I'm just giving them each one more last read through before I post them. After Running, there will be one more chapter of You're My Ride (which is not yet written), that I'll post here. Confusing? Maybe a little. But I hope you enjoy it. :)_


	66. Just Like Her Dad

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **None (Post series finale, this chapter happens solely in my head)

Reminder: There were 16 chapters of my other story, _Running_, that took place between the previous chapter and this one. You can continue without reading them, but it might make more sense if you don't skip them. :)

_A/N: I know, I know, I said I'd write one more chapter. So I sat down to write "one more chapter," with no idea what it would include… and it just wouldn't stop. So now it's three more chapters, including this one. I guess it's just harder than I thought for me to let these characters go! I apologize now if these last three chapters seem OOC or overly cheesy. Like I said at the end of Running, I just really wanted a happy ending for them, and this was how it happened in my head._

It was a Tuesday morning, and everyone was running around trying to get ready on time. Linden peeked her head into Kahlia's doorway cautiously, and found the girl scrutinizing her outfit in the mirror. She had to stifle a chuckle at the girl's choice of ensembles: pink leopard print shirt, orange leggings with a crazy zigzag print, a bright green tutu-style skirt around her waist and bright blue socks that would momentarily be put inside pink light-up sneakers. Ahhh, to be five again…

Kahlia turned and looked at her, her face breaking out into a grin that closely resembled the same boyish one that Holder seemed to be wearing a lot lately. Her hair was once again done "like Princess Leia," at Kahlia's insistence. Linden wasn't any good at doing hair, but Holder was patiently teaching her to perfect this particular style. He'd had a lot of practice, and was happy to now have an assistant.

"Time to go?" Kahlia asked excitedly, taking one more appraising look in the mirror before nodding with satisfaction at her reflection.

"Yep, we gotta get you to school. You ready?" Linden was constantly impressed with this little girl. She seemed to have inherited the best traits from both of her parents and none of the less desirable ones.

"Ready!" Kahlia exclaimed, bounding toward her and, to Linden's surprise, instead of just running past her out of the room, throwing her arms around her. Linden leaned down and returned the hug, if slightly hesitantly. It had been three weeks already, but she still had moments – a lot of them – where she had to stop and pinch herself and convince herself that it was all real… and moments where it all just seemed so _good_ – much _too good_ – that it made alarm bells go off in her head. Sometimes she had to stop and take a deep breath, and remind herself that she was okay, that she didn't have to run.

"Did you brush your teeth?" Linden asked as she quickly returned to reality and fell back into her new pseudo-parental role.

"Yes! Wanna see?" Before Linden could answer, Kahlia leaned back and grinned at her, all of her teeth on display, than opened as wide as she could, exclaiming "Ahhhhhhh!"

Linden tried to look sufficiently impressed. "Wow, you have a lot of teeth in there." She paused and looked at the little girl thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're not part shark?" Her tone and her face were completely serious. At that Kahlia dissolved into a fit of giggles, holding onto her stomach and nearly falling over. Holder came out of the other bedroom then, looking curious about all the commotion.

"What's going on out here, girls?" He couldn't help but smile, seeing his daughter so deliriously happy beside Linden, who he could see was also enjoying herself. Looking straight at Sarah, he asked, "You tellin' jokes out here without me, Linden?"

"Oh, no, absolutely not," Linden replied, her face still very serious. She looked down at Kahlia, then asked, "Should we tell him? I think this might be important." Hearing this, Holder kept his face appropriately serious, though he had to stifle a grin.

Kahlia began giggling madly again, nodding her head so enthusiastically that she almost lost her balance. It was hard for Linden to keep a straight face, the girl looked so cute. "Well, you see, we've just made an important discovery here. I'm not sure how it happened, but… your daughter is—"

"_I'm a shark! I'm a shark, daddy! See?" _Kahlia shrieked in between giggles, and then she displayed her teeth, first in a grin, and then open-mouthed, just as she had for Linden. Holder stepped back against the hallway wall in mock terror, then suddenly he reached cautiously toward Linden and grabbed her hand, quickly pulling her back to where he was standing as well.

"Linden! Get back! We're in danger! This is the first shark ever who could live _out of water_! What do we do?" Linden didn't know how Holder managed to say all that with a straight face, because she felt like she was going to lose control any second. The kid was simply too funny for words.

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think the police can handle this. Maybe Animal Control?" Linden suggested, her laughter starting to get the better of her.

"I think even Animal Control may be unable to control _this _animal. But don't you worry, Linden, because _I _know this animal's weakness." Holder's smile grew wide and suddenly Kahlia's mouth became round in a knowing smile that showed that she knew exactly what was coming, and that she loved it.

"Oh, thank goodness. But what in the world can control a shark who can live out of water?" Linden asked in her best overly-dramatic voice.

"Tickling!" Holder shouted, and he suddenly dropped her hand so that he could scoop up his daughter with both hands, lifting her off the ground and in one motion, tucked her under one arm and tickled her mercilessly with the other. Linden took a step back so as not to be kicked by Kahlia's now flailing feet as she screamed with laughter. It was another moment when just for a second, time stood still and Linden couldn't help but wonder if all of this was actually real. She just stood and beamed at them, until finally Kahlia's giggling ran out as she stopped to catch her breath and Holder released her, setting her back on the ground carefully.

Linden consulted her watch, then regretfully told them, "I hate to break this to you two, but we need to get going. We don't want Miss Kahlia to be late for school." She tapped her finger against her watch to help illustrate her point.

"Awww, but Sarah…" Kahlia moaned dramatically, but with a smile on her face. She loved school, and so far, it seemed to Holder that she loved Linden too. She seemed to worship everything about her, which constantly left Linden surprised and the tiniest bit uncomfortable, though in a good way. Holder had been enjoying watching the happy confusion on Linden's face every time his daughter caught her off guard with her seemingly unlimited kindness and affection.

"Awww, but Sarah…" Holder echoed. Linden made a face at him, pretending to be annoyed. But how could she be annoyed with these two? Simple: it was impossible.

Holder grinned at her, that little kid grin he'd always had, and she couldn't help but smile back. "Sarah's right, come on princess, time for _school!"_ he said excitedly, knowing that his daughter was about as serious with her "complaint" as he was.

"Yes! I'm ready. Just let me get my shoes on," Kahlia said, and dashed past them towards the front door.

Linden smiled and shook her head as she watched the little girl go. There were just no words to describe how special she was. Holder watched Linden watching Kahlia, and then took a step towards her, put one hand on her waist and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Things between them were moving slowly, but surely, and that was okay with him. Never mind that she'd moved into his apartment that first night, before they'd even kissed. Their story wasn't exactly conventional, anyway.

Linden smiled into the kiss, then leaned back just enough to look in his eyes. She didn't say anything, just kept smiling at him, almost like she was in awe. In a lot of ways, she still was. He'd seen her smile more in the last three weeks than he had in all the time he'd known her put together, and he loved it.

Kahlia's voice rang out from down the hall and around the corner, where she was now standing by the door with her shoes on her feet and her backpack on her back. "I'm ready!" and then after a short pause, she asked, "Hey, are you guys kissing?"

"Nope," Holder called, leaning toward Linden to kiss her again. Once again, he kept it PG, since Kahlia was close by.

"Daddy, you shouldn't lie. I _know_ you're kissing! Come on, we don't have time for kissing right now. I have to go to school! I don't wanna miss the bus!" she called insistently.

They pulled apart, both laughing at his five year old's astute assessment of the situation.

"Awww, but Kahlia…" Linden called.

"Awww, but Kahlia…" Holder echoed.

Kahlia poked her head around the corner and narrowed her eyes playfully at the two of them, standing there close beside each other, now holding hands. "Let's go! Right now! Don't make me come over there…" Kahlia said sternly, before descending into giggles again.

They exchanged a quick glance, grinning at each other, before Holder said, "Well, you heard the boss, Linden, we gotta get this girl to school. That bus driver waits for _no one_." He squeezed her hand and they walked to the door, where they quickly put on their shoes and grabbed their keys, and the trio was out of the apartment in under a minute.

When they got to the bus stop, they could already see the yellow bus driving slowly down the street a few blocks away, stopping to pick up a few other kids. "Perfect timing!" Holder declared. Kahlia threw herself into his arms and squeezed as hard as she could.

After a minute, she leaned back slightly. "It's Tuesday, right Daddy?" she asked him solemnly.

"Yes it is, little lady," he replied just as seriously.

"Okay, then I'll see you on Saturday. Until then, I know Sarah will take good care of you." Holder smiled at her then, feeling his heart swell with love for his daughter.

"She will, indeed, princess," he replied with a smile. "You take care of your mom til I see you, okay?" Kahlia saluted, and Holder echoed the gesture, then kissed her on the cheek.

"I love you, daddy."

"I love you, too, princess."

_These two are too adorable for words_, Linden thought, unable to help but smile as she watched them.

Next, as the bus drove slowly toward them, Kahlia ran to her. Linden was surprised, but she saw her coming this time, and crouched down to hug her properly. Considering the girl's size, she hugged Linden surprisingly tightly. "Thank you, Sarah," Kahlia whispered in her ear.

"For what?" Linden asked her quietly as the bus pulled closer.

"For making my daddy so happy," Kahlia said quietly but matter-of-factly, beaming at her. Linden was at a loss for words for a second, she was so taken aback by what the little girl had said.

Finally she found the right words. "Thank _you_, for taking care of him when I wasn't here," she replied. "It took me a long time to get back." Kahlia hugged Linden all over again.

"We make a good team!" Kahlia declared.

"Yes, we do. I'll see you on Saturday, okay?" Linden asked her, standing up again.

"Promise you'll be here?" Kahlia asked seriously, looking up at her.

"Promise," Linden replied with a smile.

"Okay. Bye Daddy! Bye Sarah! See you on Saturday!" And with that, Kahlia turned and scampered onto the bus. Within seconds she was waving furiously through one of the rectangular windows as the bus pulled away.

As they waved back to her, Holder stepped behind Linden and put a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her closer. Without turning around, Linden leaned back against him, sighing happily as they watched the bus round the corner, out of sight.

"She's just… amazing," she told him, still on a high from the little girl's words. "Just like her dad."

He smiled, and leaned closer to her, so that his cheek was almost touching hers. "That she is. And she loves you," he said simply. He paused for a second, once again unsure where the line was with them, but decided to go for it. He liked taking risks. "Just like her dad."

It was the closest he'd come to saying it so far, and he wondered if it was too much too soon. _Surely, she already knows by now…_ but this was Linden, and he wondered if he'd just put his foot in his mouth. He held his breath, waiting to see how she would react.

She slowly turned around to face him, unsure what to say or do. She looked up at him and he saw fear in her eyes mixed with so many other things. She looked as though she was waiting for him to try to take back his words, as if she thought that he might be regretting them. He just smiled at her warmly. "You know that, right?"

Inside, she was shaking. Actually, she was shaking a little bit _outside_, too. The past three weeks had been blissful for her – not perfect, because nothing was perfect – but _so_ far closer to perfect than she could ever have imagined her life being, sometimes it scared her. There was a lot of baggage in her way, but he knew most of it already. She was starting to let things go, but this part – letting down her guard – it would probably take a long, long time to do it completely. The thing that she couldn't seem to get through her head was that he was fine with it. _All of it._

After a long few seconds of looking into his eyes, she simply nodded, though hesitantly, still unable to speak because of the emotions that had hit her all at once. Once again, as he seemed to do frequently these days, he put both arms around her and pulled her close to him, feeling her return the hug with equal strength. As far as he was concerned, Linden needed a lot of hug therapy, and as long as she was going to allow it, he was going to provide it. He still wasn't quite used to the idea that this whole thing – her being there – wasn't a figment of his imagination, and pulling her close like that helped to reassure him that she was actually real.

They stood that way for a minute before pulling back to look at each other again, after which he grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it, another brand new habit that he'd picked up in the weeks since she'd been back. It was as though he was trying to hold onto her as much as possible to keep her from thinking about running – and maybe he was. To her surprise – and his, for that matter – she found that she didn't mind.

"Well, it's almost 8:15, you need to get going soon. And it's about time for me to get to work, too," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah," she agreed, suddenly looking nervous. She'd taken a job at Social Services working with kids in the foster care system, of all places, and she still wasn't entirely sure she'd made the right decision. Today was her first day, and she'd been up half the night worrying about it.

"You're gonna be great," he told her sincerely, pushing a stray hair behind her ear for her. "If there's anyone who was made for a job like that, it's you. You know better than anyone else what those kids need. And if it's _too much_, if you don't feel like you can do it, or you don't _want_ to do it, you are allowed to change your mind. Then you just do something else, right?"

_He makes it sound so simple_, she thought nervously. She could feel the wheels suddenly turning in her own head, panic rising inside her quickly. It was happening far less since she'd been back in Seattle, with Holder, than any other time of her life. And when it _did _happen, he seemed to sense it right away.

The look on her face was one he knew all too well. He'd seen it many times, the look she got when she was freaking out but holding it in, letting her thoughts get the best of her. Luckily, he was constantly discovering what worked to calm her down, and he couldn't help feel like he was getting better at it, too. Putting his free hand gently on her cheek and stroking it with his thumb, he waited for a minute for her to come back to the present.

When he saw that he had her attention again, he couldn't help but smile. "Hey," he said, now that he could see that she was listening. "It's not complicated. Right? We've made it through _so much_ _worse_."

That was perhaps the biggest understatement of the year. She smiled then, and nodded slightly.

"Yeah," she whispered, and the tension began to leave her. Sighing contentedly, she turned reluctantly back toward the apartment building at the end of the block where their cars were parked. His hand on her cheek dropped, but the one holding hers held on tighter. He kept hold of it until it was time for them to go their separate ways, both of them smiling at the other like lovesick teenagers. They probably looked ridiculous, she thought, but she found that she really didn't care.

_Gotta admit_, Holder thought as he kissed her goodbye, _Tuesdays ain't nearly as bad as they used to be._


	67. Mi Casa Es Su Casa

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **None (Post series finale, this chapter happens solely in my head)

A few weeks later, Linden was on her lunch break when she got a surprise phone call from Jack. She'd spoken to him the day before, not about anything in particular, just how everything was going , so she hadn't expected to hear from him again nearly so soon.

"Mom, is it okay if I come and visit for the weekend?" he asked. _Was it okay? Was he kidding?_ Nothing he could have said would have made her happier.

"I would _love _that, Jack," she told him sincerely. She heard him chuckle at the other end of the line.

"Mom, stop making that face," he groaned. She could just picture him rolling his eyes at her.

"What face?" she asked, surprised, but feeling herself blush. She knew _exactly_ what face he was talking about, and she was definitely making it.

"The one where you look like you're about to cry, the one you made at me the _whole time _when you were in Chicago," he told her. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry, but it's a mom thing. I'm so proud of you, and I'm so happy about the idea of you coming to visit, and I'm going to make that face. You're just going to have to get used to it," she told him happily.

"I was afraid of that," he sighed in pretend surrender, but she could hear the smile in his voice. She'd talked to him quite a few times since she'd come back to Seattle, and apparently he'd been talking to Holder, too. Probably trying to figure out if what she was telling him was too good to be true.

"Did you already make reservations? I can buy you a ticket," she said quickly.

"Dad actually bought the tickets," Jack told her cautiously.

She stiffened at the mention of her ex. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I told him, uh, how you were doing, and about everything, and he asked if I wanted to go out and visit you." Jack paused, as if he wasn't sure he should say anything else, then added, "He's really happy for you, mom."

She had that feeling again, the now familiar feeling where she felt like happy tears were springing to her eyes out of nowhere. After about six weeks in Seattle and countless times that it had happened, she still wasn't used to it. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

"I, uh… wow. That's really nice of him." She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I'll send you the details, okay mom?"

"That sounds great. So I'll see you… when?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. We both thought, might as well make it a long weekend. And you have Monday, off, right?"

She'd forgotten that it was a three day weekend. "Oh, yeah, right. I'm still getting used to that whole following a schedule thing," she laughed.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her. "Okay mom, so I'll see you tomorrow then. I'm forwarding you the email with my flight details now."

"Okay. I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, mom."

…

She realized a few hours later that maybe she should have run this plan by Holder before agreeing to it. When she got home that evening, Holder was already in the kitchen. Whatever he was making, it smelled _amazing_. She slipped out of her shoes, took off her jacket and hung it on the hooks by the door, dropped her keys on the little table that now sat there for exactly that purpose, and walked to the kitchen to greet him. He was deeply involved in stirring something on the stove, and didn't notice her immediately.

"Hey," she said from the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at the happy surprise on his face when he saw her.

His hands were full, but he walked towards her and rested his forearms on her shoulders, cooking utensils dangling behind her back, and leaned down to kiss her. Only after that did he speak. "Hi," he said simply, grinning. She laughed and shook her head at him. In all the time they'd worked together, she'd never in a million years thought that "cute" would be a word she'd use to describe Holder… but that was the first one that came to her mind. He acted so damn _cute_ around her these days.

After grinning at each other for a minute, he stepped back to the stove and began stirring again. "So, what're you making tonight, chef?" she asked with interest, trying to peer into the pot.

"That is none of your business, young lady!" he snapped playfully, pretending to put the lid on the pot that he was working on. "Go sit down and relax. How can I wow you with my amazing culinary skills if you spoil the surprise?" She smiled and rolled her eyes at him, leaving the kitchen to perch on one of the bar stools that sat under the counter overlooking the kitchen. It was the same set up that he'd had in his old place, which had made it feel familiar to her even when she'd first moved in.

As she settled herself on the stool, he walked to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, removed the cap, and set it on the counter in front of her, looking very proud of himself.

"Wow, I like the service in this bar," she said, nodding her head appreciatively. "But, am I allowed to sit here? Or is this too close? I don't want to ruin the surprise," she teased him.

He looked at her thoughtfully, as if he was seriously considering the question. "Hmmm… well, on one condition." She raised her eyebrows, waiting to hear what silly condition he'd come up with. "You may sit there if you keep your eyes on _me_, and not my culinary masterpiece." As he spoke, he motioned first to himself, then waved his hands expansively around the pot that contained whatever it was that he was making for dinner. He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her answer, as she just continued to watch him.

"Well? Do you accept the condition? Or do I need to forcibly remove you from that stool?"

She shook her head, as if trying to bring herself back to reality. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot the question. I was looking only at you, as instructed, and I just forgot about everything else… what did you ask me?"

_Damn, her deadpan skills are even better than they used to be, _the thought.He nodded slowly, grinning at her and chuckling.

"Good answer, Linden. Well played…" She smiled then, chuckling along with him.

"So, how was your day?" he asked. "The kids behaving themselves?" He'd been pleased to see that so far, she seemed to be enjoying most parts of her job. Because the topic of foster kids was a sensitive one with her, he knew she had to be careful to make sure she didn't slide into old habits, like losing herself in a case the way she used to as a detective. Even if it _was _because she just cared too much, he'd promised both of them that he wouldn't let her get in deeper than she could reasonably handle, that he'd be her life preserver so that she didn't drown in it all. Being able to make such a promise was just another advantage of knowing her so well.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm still meeting them all. One of them tried to give me attitude today, started acting like I was just another clueless adult who didn't actually give a shit, with no idea what I was talking about." He looked over his shoulder at her from his cooking as she spoke. "It's kinda funny to watch them as they realize that I _do_ know what they're going through. Sometimes it's like they become a whole different kid after that."

He nodded at her. _She looks so proud, _he thought. It wasn't a look he'd seen a lot of on her, and he liked it. "That's really cool," he replied, nodding his head. "I'm glad the job's going well so far."

She smiled, but there was something bothering her, he could tell. She looked like something else was on her mind. "So what's up? You look like you wanna tell me something."

"Well, I…" She fidgeted awkwardly with her hands and took a sip of her beer before continuing. "Jack called me earlier."

"Oh yeah? What's new with him?" He could see that she was building up to something.

"He wants to come out and visit this weekend." She was looking at him uncomfortably, which he didn't quite understand.

"That's great! Haven't seen Little Man in…" He stopped to think about it. "Well, like five years." He lifted his eyebrows quickly, letting them fall again and gave her a knowing smile. She looked back at him sheepishly.

_Since well before all that shit went down, _he thought._ In fact, the last time Jack was here, when Linden forgot she had to take him to the airport, was the night that she and I screamed at each other, ending eloquently with hurling "Fuck you!" back and forth at the tops of our lungs. __**Not **__our proudest moment… _he thought. He could see that she was replaying the worst part of that night in her head, as well, and he tried to smile reassuringly at her.

But that wasn't what was bothering her, he had a strong feeling. After all, they were past that.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, wanting to move on from the thought that they were both having. "Well apparently he really wants to come out for the weekend. His dad had even bought him a ticket already." She cleared her throat nervously.

_Oh for God's sake, spit it out_, she told herself. "I, uh… I told him he could come. I realized later that I probably should have asked if it was okay with _you_ first." She looked him uncertainly and he finally realized what the issue was.

"Linden," he said evenly, and waited for her to look up before he continued. She suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, and when she finally looked at him, he could see that she looked about as uncomfortable as he'd seen her in the past six weeks, since that first day she came back. He put down the spoon he was stirring the food with and walked out of the kitchen and around the corner to where she was sitting.

She turned around to face him as he moved close to her, but didn't immediately look up at him. Sitting on the barstool gave her more height than usual, and when she did look up, their eyes were almost level. Meeting her eyes and smiling reassuringly, he told her, "Little Man is _always _welcome here, though he's gonna have to camp on either the couch or the floor. You don't need my permission to invite him. Okay?"

Smiling weakly, she nodded quickly, as if trying to convince him that she was completely comfortable with that idea… Which he could see that she wasn't. _Why does she bother to pretend with me?_ he wondered. _It's written all over her face._

He shook his head at her and pulled the stool beside her over so that he was could sit facing her, then sat down. After looking at her carefully for a minute, watching her avoid his eyes, he finally spoke. "Okay, Linden. Listen." She looked back up at him slowly but curiously, suspecting that she was busted.

"It's not going to do you any good to tell me you're fine when you're not fine. It might work on other people, but it don't work on me. It never really did, if you recall. It's _okay_ if you're not fine. Just remember, it's written all over your face." He looked at her sternly, but with a hint of a smile.

She couldn't help but chuckle, then she crossed her arms across her chest and pretended to pout. "I don't know what you're talking about," she huffed at him. This just made him laugh, and he hopped off the stool and stood in front of her, leaning in close so that their faces were only inches apart.

"No?" She shook her head, still pretending to pout, but at the same time about to laugh. He remained close enough that she wondered if he was going to kiss her, but he stayed where he was, looking into her eyes.

"What was it you said that first day, Linden, that home was us? There's that word, _home._ Yours _and _mine. Mi casa es su casa and all that. Little Man is just as welcome here as Kahlia. _Always_," he said solemnly, then added with a smile, "He just doesn't get his own room. We're all filled up." She smiled then, a genuine smile, and looked down, reaching for his hand and pulling it towards her, resting their intertwined fingers on her knee.

"Okay?" he asked her, and she looked back up at him and nodded slowly.

"Okay," she whispered, and this time he believed her.

"Now are you ready to eat, or what? Because dinner is gonna blow your mind." Leaning forward slightly, she kissed him, taking advantage of the fact that Kahlia was at Caroline's. After a minute he felt her pull back slightly, smiling.

He opened his eyes, smiling back at her, and asked "What was that for?"

She just shrugged. "Just felt like it."

He nodded at her with a knowing look, and said, "Well, I like the way you think."

Linden chuckled then. "But now I'm ready to taste this amazing dinner that I've heard so much about," she told him teasingly.

"I dunno, Linden, you might think you're ready… but I'm not sure you are…" He backed up and turned toward the kitchen as she followed close behind. As he dished out the food and handed her a bowl, he talked excitedly about what he'd done to prepare it. She tried to listen attentively, but she suddenly had another moment where she stopped hearing what he was saying and just stood there in awe of all of it, that she was really here. That this was her life now.

It was going to take a long time to accept that all of this was real.


	68. Home

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters or ideas from The Killing. It's all just for fun.

**Spoilers: **None (Post series finale, this chapter happens solely in my head)

_A/N: Last chapter… *sniff*_

Jack's plane was getting in at 5:00 p.m., and Linden was beyond excited. She left work at 4:00 and drove straight to the airport. There was a little bit of traffic, but not too much, and by 4:30 she was parked and making her way into the terminal. She located Jack's flight listed on the arrival board, so she could see which terminal he would be coming into. She planted herself outside of security, so that she wouldn't be able to miss him when he emerged. It didn't make any sense, but she felt almost nervous with excitement. She'd seen Jack in Chicago a few months ago, and she'd talked to him even more frequently than she had been accustomed to since she'd been back in Seattle. So why was she feeling so anxious?

She was standing and fidgeting, trying to entertain herself for the twenty some minutes that remained before his flight was even due to land, when suddenly she heard a familiar little voice screaming her name from somewhere nearby. Turning and searching the crowd, all she saw was a blur of bright colors headed straight for her, and only seconds later she felt the impact of Kahlia running full speed into her legs, nearly knocking her off her feet. She managed to catch the girl so that neither of them fell over, though just barely. Linden couldn't help but laugh as she looked up, searching the crowd for Holder, who caught up with his daughter a second later.

"Olympic runners got nothin' on my kid," he said, shaking his head as he walked up to them. "She spotted you from across the room and just sprinted the rest of the way. Gonna have to have a talk with her about that later." She chuckled and shook her head at him, as Kahlia continued to cling to her legs excitedly, bouncing up and down as if there were springs in her feet.

Linden crouched down so that she could give Kahlia a real hug, and actually talk to her. "Hi, sweetheart," she greeted the girl when Kahlia finally released her from a very tight hug. "I didn't know you guys were coming to pick up Jack, too."

"It was daddy's idea. He thought it might be a nice surprise, and my mommy said it was okay. They traded days around or something like that," Kahlia told her, still so excited that she couldn't stand stop bouncing. Linden smiled at her, and hugged her again. Just when she thought they couldn't surprise her with any other sweet gestures… they did.

"I'm glad you're both here. I was feeling a little lonely standing here waiting by myself," Linden told Kahlia seriously. Kahlia nodded as if she understood completely. Just then, Linden felt Holder grabbing her hand and tugging on it. She looked up to see him looking at her impatiently, and pushed herself to stand up again.

"Is it my turn now?" he asked with a grin.

"Your turn for what?" Linden replied.

"To say hi. Apparently you have to be five years old and cute to get attention around here," Holder said, pretending to pout.

She grinned back at him. "Don't worry, I don't think you act any older than five most of the time, and you're pretty cute too. Feel better?" She bit her lip trying to keep a straight face, but it didn't work. Holder burst out laughing at that, but then pretended to be terribly offended. It didn't work, though, because he still couldn't keep a straight face.

"I always said you were extremely observant," he finally conceded with a smile.

"I didn't know you guys were coming," she told him happily.

"Yeah well, ya know, I don't just do airport runs when your kid's _leaving_. I like to see the happy ones, too. And this one," he pointed at Kahlia, "was so excited when I told her that Jack was coming to visit, I don't think she would ever have forgiven me if I hadn't agreed to let her tag along. She apparently waged a short but Oval-Office-worthy campaign to get Caroline to let her come along, even though it wasn't a day when we'd usually have her."

Kahlia was listening to their conversation, and she slipped her hand into Linden's free one. Linden couldn't help but look back down at her, beaming at Sarah like Holder had never seen before. She suddenly felt him watching her with what seemed like was an unusually big grin – and that was really saying something.

When she looked at him questioningly, he leaned closer to her ear, so that Kahlia didn't hear him. "You just look like someone handed you the fuckin' moon."

Her smile returned then. "You didn't know? _Someone _did," she replied with a grin, knowing exactly how sickeningly sweet her words were coming out, but saying them anyway and laughing at herself. He shook his head at her, and slid his hand out of her hand so that he could thread it around her waist, careful not to tug her away from Kahlia, who was looking around excitedly.

"Daddy? Sarah? Is it almost time?" she asked, her excitement seeming to have recharged while the adults had been talking.

Holder checked his watch, and replied, "Ten more minutes, little lady."

"Ten minutes?!" Kahlia moaned dramatically. "That's, like, _forever_!" Linden and Holder chuckled, looking at each other and shaking their heads.

Linden leaned down slightly toward the girl so she could hear her better. "Ten minutes isn't so long, Kahlia. It took me _five years_ to get back to Seattle after I left."

The girl's mouth fell open and she looked up at Linden in shock. "That's… my whole life!" Linden was pretty sure she'd just blown Kahlia's mind a little bit, and she chuckled, but then nodded at her.

"And you know what? Your daddy waited all those five years not even knowing if we'd get to see each other again."

Kahlia suddenly looked confused. "But why wouldn't you see each other again?"

Linden just smiled at her. "It's a _really, really _long story, but I promise that I'll tell you someday, when you're older and it makes more sense. Okay?"

Once again, Kahlia displayed amazing maturity. She stood and appeared to be thinking the whole thing over very carefully for several minutes, and then finally she looked up at Linden and just smiled the same adoring smile that she always gave her. "Okay, Sarah," she said happily, "it's a deal." Then she looked from Linden to Holder as though she'd thought of something else, and said solemnly, "That's a _really_ long time to wait for something."

They both nodded in agreement. "You know what? You're _right_ about that," Linden replied. "But the really good stuff is worth it, no matter _how _long you have wait." Again, Kahlia looked at her wide-eyed, as though Linden had told her one of the biggest secrets of the universe.

Suddenly Holder was nudging her in the side. "Hey, yo, Linden, this guy claims that he knows you—" Linden looked up in confusion to see what Holder was talking about, and was surprised to see Jack standing in front of her. She immediately let go of both Holder and Kahlia so she could hug her son tightly, happy tears immediately squeezing themselves out of the corners of her eyes.

"You're early!" she exclaimed in surprise, unable to contain her excitement that Jack had just suddenly appeared before her as if by magic.

"Yeah, the flight left on time, for once, and they told us we'd probably be here early… and we were." He smiled, then looked over Linden's shoulder at Holder. A look of recognition passed between Holder and Jack, which Linden saw in Holder's eyes, and then turned slightly to see it in Jack's as well, as they nodded at each other.

_They've got a secret of some kind, _she thought, thinking back to all the times Jack had talked about Holder when she'd been on the road. She'd have to ask them about that sometime.

Then just like that, Jack extracted himself from Linden's hug so that he could perform the same multi-part salute ritual with Holder that they'd done each time they'd seen each other when Jack had lived in Seattle, many years ago. It made Linden laugh to see that Jack still remembered it. When that was completed, Linden was surprised to see them clap each other on the back in a typical "guy hug." _He's so grown up, _she thought. _When did this happen?_

Kahlia was watching quietly from the other side of Linden, and now she leaned against Linden's leg, excited but nervous. Jack saw her peeking at him, and he squatted down to her level to say hi. "Hey, you must be Kahlia. It's really nice to finally meet you!" He held out his hand for her to shake, and she grinned at him with the same adoring look that she always gave his mom.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Kahlia replied in awe. She was only silent for about ten seconds, though, before she started talking to Jack excitedly about anything and everything. Her school, her friends, her favorite things… she just went on and on.

Linden turned towards Holder, who was watching the two proudly, and took a step closer to him. Jack glanced at the two of them in surprise and amusement, clearly not having expected Kahlia to be quite as much of a bundle of energy as she was. That was when they overheard Kahlia tell Jack in an unnecessarily loud voice – probably for their benefit – that, "sometimes they kiss. They do it a lot, actually. It's kinda gross, but it seems to make them happy. I've gotten used to it."

They looked at each other, and Holder winked at her, a grin on his face, then shrugged and whispered "Yeah, well, you know how we do," and then leaned down to kiss her quickly on the lips.

They heard Kahlia groan, and tell Jack in her very adult, yet very young voice, "See? They're doing it again. I just don't _understand_ grown-ups." They glanced at Jack, who looked like he was working hard to keep a straight face and nodded at them, then looked down at Kahlia solemnly and told her, "Don't worry, just stick with me. _I'm_ not kissing anybody." Linden bit her lip to keep from laughing at that comment, and Holder grabbed her hand once again, giving it a squeeze.

"Thank goodness _someone _isn't," Kahlia replied dramatically, and she grabbed Jack's hand, then looked over at Linden and Holder. "Daddy? Sarah? Are we ready to go? We've got Jack!"

"Yes we do, and yes we are!" Holder replied quickly, "Now what do you guys say we go out for pizza?"

"Pizza!" Kahlia almost screamed with delight. If the airport hadn't been so noisy at this time of day, they would have attracted far more looks from passers by than they did.

Jack shook his head at the girl beside him, smiling in amusement and then replied, "Sounds great, Holder." Jack and Kahlia started to walk forward through the crowd, Linden and Holder close behind them.

"And what about you, Linden? Pizza sound good?" He watched her and he just knew the wheels in her head were turning again, but not in a bad way. Squeezing her hand, he was about to ask if she was okay when she finally replied.

"Anywhere is perfect," she said, her voice choking just a little bit on the wave of emotion she suddenly felt. "This… is perfect."

"Yep, it is," Holder agreed. "It's like someone very wise once said… about two minutes ago… The good stuff is worth waiting for," he added matter-of-factly. She looked at him and shook her head, in awe that he was allowing something quite so cheesy to come out of his mouth. But he wasn't wrong.

She looked at Kahlia, now skipping along hand in hand with Jack, in front of them. "What can I say? She's a good influence on me."

"You're a good influence on _her_," he replied. The look that she gave him made it clear that she couldn't be farther from agreeing. "What? I'm _serious,"_ Holder told her looked at the floor, her pace slowing. He let go of her hand and pulled it around her waist, keeping her moving at the pace they'd been walking, and leaned down closer to her ear, murmuring, "Let the past go, Linden. You're here, and I'm here, and they're here, and we're all ok. We're better than ok. …Okay?"

She smiled slowly and nodded in surrender, leaning into him as he pulled her tighter to him still. Jack turned around just then and looked at them over his shoulder. He smiled and rolled his eyes. "Watch out, Holder, she's got that look on her face again. The sappy one."

Holder grinned at the young man in front of him proudly. "Just means I'm doin' my job, Little Man." Jack shook his head, but the smile on his face told them that he couldn't be happier as he turned back and said something to Kahlia that they couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it resulted in her once again bouncing up and down with excitement.

If Linden could have frozen time, it would have been in that moment right there. This was it.

She was home.

_A/N: Okay, this is really the end this time. Thank you so much for sticking with this story. I came late to the party for The Killing, only discovering it months before season 4 came out on Netflix, but I think I made up for it in my love for these characters. I saw so much of myself in them, and writing this has been like therapy for myself in a way, just MUCH cheaper. As much as I have LOVED writing this story (and my other one for The Killing, "Running"), I don't really see any more stories for them in my future. But then again, you never know, because I never would've thought I'd spend nearly 145,000 words and 68 chapters (plus the nearly 35,000 words and 16 chapters of "Running") over the course of seventeen months devoted to them, either. Thank you Shelby, for telling me to watch The Killing in the first place, and for reading and giving me your "world's shortest text reviews" on pretty much every single chapter. Thanks to everyone else who read this story and left reviews here as well. I'm really going to miss these two._


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